Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“These are the stables,” Dick explains, “though we don’t use them often. The creatures we take care of aren’t fond of restricted spaces. The only reason we might put one in one of the stalls is to take care of them if they get really sick.”

Dick examines Timothy Drake, the latest addition to their ranks, and watches the teenager fumble with his fingers. Dick wasn’t one to doubt his adopted father’s decisions in recruitment choices, but he’d really like to see what Bruce sees in Tim. Bruce didn’t just recruit people willy-nilly, not in their line of work, and Dick had reason to believe that Tim must’ve done something to catch Bruce’s eye. 

Tim was a good kid, Dick was sure, judging by his character alone. He had a youthful passion hidden under basic confidence issues that held him back. Dick was certain he must intimidate the poor little fella because Tim walked around on pins and needles when he had any questions. He was very careful with how he articulated his sentences, and he seemed overall anxious to be around an authority figure. 

“We have a creature in one of the stalls right now,” Dick says, leading Tim to the last stall on the right, “and judging by the mess I’m sure you can assume what we’re dealing with.”

The gate they had once used for the stall was now replaced because it’d been scorched beyond repair. The new steel metal door was unlike anything else in the entire stable, but it’d been a necessary addition for two reasons. One, to keep their sickly beast inside the stall, and two, to stop the creature from setting the rest of the stable on fire. Still, despite the brand new fortification, there were still noticeable scratch marks stretched on both sides. 

They stop in front of the door. Dick gestures to the glass window that sat high near the top right corner. Tim takes that as permission to peek into it. He steps on his toes because he wasn’t quite tall enough to reach it yet, and he makes an audible gasp when he sees the creature inside.

Dick grabs at the clipboard hooked on the post besides the door. He flips through the sheets.

“Jason,” Dick reads out loud with a drawl, having already gone through this process with their other addition, Cass, “is a dragon who is suffering from a condition we’ve recently titled Slime Disease. We’re trying to come up with a treatment plan, but unfortunately we’ve had little luck with his temper.”

Tim watches as Jason, a long, heavy, red-scaled dragon opens a yellow slitted eye. 

He puffs out a surge of smoke as they make eye-contact. Tim stumbles backwards.

“What’s,” Tim swallows thickly, “what’s slime disease?”

“Well,” Dick starts explaining, hooking the clipboard back on the post, “we don’t know where it originates from, but what we theorize is that the ooze that has been seeping through Jason’s cracked scales is a type of pus that fights infection. We’re not entirely sure yet, and we can’t actually do any tests with Jason’s dangerous temper.”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, glancing back at the metal steel door. 

“Don’t worry,” Dick says, slapping a hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t miss the wince in response, “we don’t let the rookies handle dragons. Not unless you really want to, and have enough training under your belt. No. You’re more likely going to take care of some of our other creatures under Alfred’s supervision until you’re experienced enough to handle things yourself.”

Tim offers Dick a nervous smile. 

Dick pats his shoulder a couple of times, feeling bad that he’d scared Tim, and then withdraws it back to his side.

Tim stutters out a question, “So what exactly do you do? I know tha- that I’m supposed to just take care of their needs, but what exactly do you do around the sanctuary?”

Dick smiles. “Well, aside from trying to not get singed, I’m usually a jack-of-all-trades. That’s why I’m the one showing you around. And, speaking of which, that’s why I’m the one who’s going to show you what to do in the mornings. Here. Follow me.”

Dick starts for the exit. Tim scampers behind him. 

Dick points at a water pump to their right, rooted in dirt with no grass, and says, “We’ll be counting on you to fulfill basic chores. Feeding the creatures in the morning, and making sure they have enough water. “

Dick walks over to the water pump.

“This pump leads directly to the water bins. You just need to give it a few pumps like this,” Dick says, demonstrating by grabbing the handle, and pulling it up. He then grunts, pushes it back down, and repeats the process twice. “We’ve tried to make things simple, but even the most menial tasks take away precious time that can be used to work on analyzing our resident’s behavior. That’s why you’ll be doing this from now on.”

“Okay,” Tim says.

Dick releases the pump. He lets it fall slowly. 

“Over here,” Dick starts again, gesturing for Tim to follow him, “is the variety of feeds we use for each individual creature. Since Cass is our new dietician, she’s going to be helping you with this part, because it wouldn’t do if we get any of these mixed up. Each creature has a specific diet, and mixing things up can potentially be catastrophic to their health. Let’s start by showing you how to feed one of our long-time residents, Stephanie.”

“Stephanie?” Tim asks.

“She’s a griffin,” Dick says, “and griffins are carnivores. We like to use the premade pellets that we’ve mixed with important medication. She needs to take for her feathers.”

Dick grunts again. He opens the door to a large shack, and then takes a step in. Tim glances around when he steps in behind, and Dick momentarily watches the kid take in all of the massive containers they had filled with food.

Dick walks over to a food dispenser specifically designed for Stephanie. He grabs hold of a bucket on the way there, holds it underneath the drop off chute, and then turns the handle upward. He watches as the pellets spill out of the dispenser in a solid waterfall. 

The bucket fills. Dick shuts it off. He hands it to Tim.

Tim accepts it without any question. Dick leads him out of the shack, past the stables, and towards a  dark brown building on the edge of their property. 

“Watch your step,” Dick says, “it gets-”

He hears a sad groan. He glances over his shoulder to see Tim’s boot covered in mud lined with weeds, twigs, and other pieces of nature.

“It gets muddy,” Dick laughs. “It’s a good thing you brought those boots.”

“Yeah,” Tim grimaces, balancing on one foot, and checking the heel of his boot. It was caked in the same mud that covered the leather up to his ankle. 

Dick starts walking again. Tim follows him with a disgruntled frown.

“Now, Stephanie is one of our passive residents,” Dick mentions, unlatching the human sized door that would lead them inside her nest, “so you can feed her straight out of the bucket. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, she’ll lay an egg for you.”

Tim raises his brows.

Dick snorts. “I’m not kidding.”

“Um,” Tim begins, “Wouldn’t she be embarrassed? I know that the sanctuary only houses people that have been - uh - you know…”

“Cursed?” Dick offers.

Tim shrinks in himself.

Dick shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It’s not taboo to say that word around here. Something that we’ve learned about people who’ve been cursed is that they don’t retain the normal mental faculties they used to have as humans. Until their emotional problems are solved by their extended transformation, they start to think like the creatures they take form as, and so they adopt their characteristics. In Stephanie’s instance, to show her appreciation, she lays eggs for people. Just don’t think too hard about it. She’ll be offended if you don’t accept her gifts.”

Dick ushers Tim into the building. He closes the door behind them.

The building was rather spacious for a griffin Stephanie’s size, which was funny, considering the fact that she was the smallest griffin Dick’s ever seen. The entire floor was littered with hay, it was impossible to avoid, but the largest mixture of it sat in the middle where Stephanie had created her own nest. Dick wasn’t surprised to see her roosting there.

Stephanie raises her head. Dick greets her with a smile. 

“Hey, Steph!” He says, voice light.

Stephanie’s eyes brighten. She stands up.

Tim takes a step back to hide behind Dick. Dick couldn’t blame him. Stephanie was twice his size, larger than even Jason, and she was an absolute beast with those sharp talons of hers. Her beak was strong enough to penetrate steel.

“This bucket isn’t enough,” Tim whispers in fear.

Dick felt bad for finding that statement funny. 

“She doesn’t eat a lot,” Dick supplies. 

Stephanie takes one heavy step towards them. She tilts her head to the side, like that of a bird, to inspect the newcomer. 

“Griffins don’t eat like the others,” Dick explains, “and we’re pretty sure it’s because they get their food from two different sources. This is really just a way to administer her medication.”

“What other way do they eat?” Tim asks with wide eyes. 

“Affection,” Dick says with a smile. 

Stephanie lowers her head. Dick reaches out a hand to card through giant feathers. 

“She doesn’t bite,” Dick promises, “she’s probably the gentlest resident we shelter in the sanctuary.”

Dick takes a step to the side, exposing Tim to the giant griffin, and Tim pales.

“Can I touch you?” Dick asks. He’d learned from the patting incident earlier.

Tim takes a moment to think over his question. 

He reluctantly nods his head.

Dick takes his free wrist in his palm. He reaches it up slowly, for Tim’s sake, and then hovers it over Stephanie’s cheek. He can feel Tim tremble underneath him. He feels bad for it, but Dick knew he’d overcome it when he found out there was nothing to fear. Dick had been the same way when he’d first started taking chores up in the sanctuary.

Tim rests a hand on Stephanie’s cheek. Dick removes his grip from his wrist.

Tim’s hand is still for a long moment. 

Dick encourages him by saying, “It’s okay. Just try a simple stroke. She doesn’t mind.”

Stephanie was eyeing Tim. Her yellow irises, not unlike Jason’s, watch Tim’s face as he bites his bottom lip.

He gently, carefully, runs a hand down one of her feathers.

Stephanie rumbles in appreciation. Dick knows it’s for Tim’s benefit. She didn’t usually make that kind of noise. She preferred to stay silent, only squawking when she was impatient, and even then it was rare to hear her make such a sound. 

“Oh,” Tim says, still frightened, but a little less tense than before.

“Alright,” Dick says after Tim strokes her a couple of more times, “here’s how we feed her in the morning.”

Tim withdraws his hand. 

“Stephanie? Sit,” Dick commands.

Stephanie tilts her head to change her attention to Dick. She watches him with a curious look.

“Sit, Stephanie,” he repeats.

Stephanie plops down on the ground. She crosses her two front talons.

“Good girl,” Dick croones, “now roll over.”

Stephanie stares.

“Roll over,” he encourages.

Stephanie rolls over on her side, and then onto her back. She sticks her limbs out in the air.

“Such a good griffin,” he coos, patting her cheek, “now open your beak.”

Stephanie doesn’t wait this time. She opens her beak.

“Alright,” Dick says, “this is the part where you need to get close and personal.”

Dick takes Tim’s bucket from his hand. He starts to climb up Stephanie’s feathers.

“You can use a ladder if you want, but Stephanie doesn’t mind if you just climb up her face.”

He can imagine how he must look. He must look ridiculous in Tim’s eyes, but this is what was necessary to keep their local griffin happy.

Dick hauls the bucket up with only one hand. His upper body strength was what kept him up when he pulls hiimself up to an opening of her beak. He then dumps the contents of the bucket, making it look effortless after all of the practice he’d put into the same motion, and then he watches the pellets fall down into the abyss of her throat.

Dick tosses the bucket behind him. He then leaps backwards, flips in the air, and lands on his feet.

Tim looks at him like he was a circus act, and, in a way, Dick used to be exactly that. 

Stephanie rolls back on her stomach. She starts preening her feathers with no delay.

“Now, her eggs are pretty big if she decides you ought to have one, so we usually keep a dolly around to wheel it out of the building. They’re pretty heavy.”

“Um,” Tim says, “okay.”

“You can decide what you want to do with them,” Dick says as they take to exiting the building again, “but sometimes I just cook the entire thing in the giant boiling room. We give out the leftovers to some of the creatures here.”

Dick takes three steps out of the building before squinting his eyes.

Tim closes the door behind him. He can hear him lock the latch. 

Dick recognizes the four legged figure trotting towards him. He sighs out loud, handing the bucket over to Tim again, and then says, “Looks like we have a visitor.”

“Huh?” Tim sounds.

Dick had sighed, sure, but he was actually quite delighted to see that their new company had shown up. It was a show of progress, a sign of trust, because Damian of all people, of all creatures, wanted to be around Dick.

The reason he’d sighed was because Damian had escaped his pasture again.

“Is that a-” Tim starts.

“Pegasus?” Dick finishes for him. “Yeah.”

Damian, his sweet little foal, trots to a stop in front of Dick. 

Dick can’t keep his hands to himself. He reaches out a hand to rub the side of Damian’s face, and Damian leans his face in his caretaker’s palm. 

“This is Damian,” Dick introduces.

Tim gasps.

Dick knows why.

He just doesn’t want to comment on it.

Dick moves his hand to stroke Damian’s snout. His ears twitch and his tail flicks.

“You don’t have to worry about Damian,” Dick starts explaining, “He’s primarily under my care. You might be called in to take care of his coat every once in a while, but I’m not going to lie to you. I covet most of the duties.”

“Oh, no, I understand. It’s fine,” Tim says.

“Thanks,” Dick says, quietly. 

He strokes Damian one more time before removing his hand. Damian, his black fur coated little brother, cranes his head past Dick’s person to sniff at Tim. His interest wasn’t really in Tim. It was more on the foreign object that carried the scent of a griffin on it. 

“His wings,” Tim points out, “they’re banded.”

“Yeah,” Dick confirms, “it’s just to keep him from flying away. He’s not like Stephanie. He won’t come back if he decides to take flight.”

“Oh,” Tim says, “that’s - um - that’s problematic.”

“Right?” Dick agrees. “Just wish he knew that.”

Damian sticks his nose in the bucket that Tim had lowered for Damian’s sake. He then pulls his nose out, huffs out a breath of air, and then turns his attention back to Dick. He head butts him on the thigh.

Dick pats Damian’s head. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” he says. “We’ve got a couple of other creatures we need to show you how to feed. Do you mind if Damian accompanies us?”

“Not at all,” Tim says. 

“Great,” Dick says, starting up in a walk again.

Tim swings the bucket behind him. He keeps up with Dick’s pace. Dick felt he could correctly guess that his eyes weren’t on Dick’s back anymore, though, because it wasn’t often that you watched a human walk side by side with the cursed. He was probably looking over Damian in that brand new fascination that came to all those who started working in the sanctuary.

“After we finish,” Dick says, “we’ll go to the manor for a break. I’ll introduce you to some of your co-workers. I think you’ll like them. Most of them are your age.”

“Really?” Tim asks, taking a step faster to keep up with Dick’s acrobatic strides.

“Yup.”

Chapter Text

Tim Drake takes a big sigh as he sprawls across his new mattress.

It’d just been a day since he’d been employed by Mr. Wayne, and he was beyond exhausted by the sheer amount of chores Dick walked him through. Tim found comfort that he wasn’t the only one who was going to be doing them, but he was still overwhelmed by all of the training he’d been put through. Dick Grayson was a really nice supervisor, but man did he know how to put Tim to work. Tim couldn’t find much fault in it, though, considering the fact that they didn’t have enough employees in general to keep up with half of the chores required to accomplish. 

Bruce Wayne, Tim knew, was selective about what people worked for him. Especially when it came to his sanctuary. Tim felt honored he’d been accepted at all, praying for months that he’d get that return phone call after his interview, and now he was finally living his dream. He was away from his home. He was working for the Mr. Wayne. He was helping people. Tim couldn’t ask for more. He was just happy he made it this far.

Tim stares up at the ceiling as he thinks over some of the creatures he’d visited throughout the day. They had a wide variety ranging from feathered beasts, scaled reptiles, and aquatic sea-creatures. Tim still remembers taking one step in the aquarium, and gawking when he saw a bonafide giant squid. It took up nearly the entire building. The other small tanks were for the smaller creatures, but the squid was the biggest sea creature that they had. Tim could only imagine how much money it took to keep the water clean, the squid fed, and happy. While he was certain the squid would be better off in the sea, the creature would have no hope of reverting back to human without human contact, and so it made sense that Bruce had constructed a monstrous tank to hold him. The tank was massive, Tim was an ant compared to it, but even then the squid didn’t have enough room it needed. Tim could only wonder about the story of the cursed human behind the sea-monster, and how his soul, fears, and dreams ended up presenting as a massive squid.

The squid, the one they call Arthur, is one of the most terrifying things Tim has ever seen. 

Apparently, according to Dick, there were even more dangerous creatures in the big red barn on the Wayne property. It was one of the first, basic, buildings constructed for the sanctuary. Tim was forbidden from approaching it. That was Mr Wayne’s jurisdiction specifically, and it was for everyone’s safety that they all were to keep away. Tim was no exception.

That only had Tim wondering. 

If he could approach the squid, then what on earth would be in a barn smaller than the squid’s tank? What could be inside, dangerous enough to be forbidden?

Regardless, Tim was rather interested in the charts that he’d been given which recorded the residency of each creature, and he was particularly interested in the oldest members. 

Stephanie had been one of the first creatures to find a home in the sanctuary. Tim didn’t know why, but the chart said she’d been around for nearly seven years. That meant they hadn’t figured out the root of her emotional issue, yet, which they had success with the other creatures they brought in. 

Jason was interesting too. Tim remembered reading that Jason had been a long-term resident for about five years, and Tim could guess as to why. He didn’t let anyone near him. It made it hard to figure out his underlying issue.

Aside from Stephanie, and Jason, Tim was still getting over the shock that was Damian Wayne. He might not be a long-term resident, not like the others, but his name was not an unfamiliar one. Tim remembered pulling that name out of the internet when he was researching Bruce Wayne, and the last reported sighting of his youngest son was at a fundraiser at his elementary school. It was reported that Bruce withdrew his son for home-schooling, and now Tim had a pretty good idea as to why. Turning into a pegasus was a great reason to pull someone out of school. 

Tim keeps thinking about his day until he hears a knock at his door. He rolls out of bed, ignoring the aches, and drags himself through an uncluttered floor to get to the door knob.

He opens the door. Duke Thomas, Tim’s next-room neighbor, smiles at him sheepishly.

“Um, hey,” he greets, “I know we don’t really know each other, and we just met like… four hours ago? I don’t know, I mean, would you be willing to help me? I’ve been trying to replace the curtains, but I think I might’ve made it worse. I could really use some help.”

Tim blinks.

“Oh, uh, sure,” he says.

He wasn’t one to say no to a request for help. He leaves the room, wishing that maybe he should’ve checked the mirror before answering the door, and then he follows Duke to his.

“Thanks, man,” Duke says, sounding much more confident now that he had gotten the gritty part of asking for help over, “I don’t want to draw any more attention than I have to. These rooms are just so nice, and I really, really, hope I didn’t do any damage to mine.”

“They are pretty nice,” says Tim. His room might be a little sparse, lacking a majority of decorations he could’ve brought from home, but it was still comfy. It was furnished for his needs. It had come with a bed, sheets, blankets, pillows, a dresser, a closet, and a pretty cool windowsill he could rest on. It was far better than the room he used to have. He really did upgrade.

Tim takes one step into Duke’s room and gets thrown in for a loop. Duke had already decorated his room with multiple posters, sports banners, and stickers. Tim spots the skateboard propped up against his dresser, and realizes that Duke must be a guy who loved athletics. It wasn’t the only interest Tim had noticed, though. The posters that he had covering the walls had various mystical creatures printed across. Tim caught sight of a black, green acid spilling, dragon, a nine-tailed fox, and a gothic looking blood sucking vampire. It was clear that he was passionate about what he was doing. Tim wouldn’t know why he was employed in the sanctuary otherwise.

Duke steps up on his mattress with socks on his feet. He reaches for the pole that’d been torn out of the wall. 

“See?” Duke says.

Tim takes one good look at the curtain rod.

He grimaces.

“I-” he begins, wincing when he notices the ruined wall, “I’m not sure that’s going to get fixed without making some noise.”

Duke adopts a downfallen expression. 

“I mean,” Tim tries, “we could try. I’m just saying that it’s going to be hard getting materials in here without getting noticed, and I’m not sure Mr. Wayne would even let us borrow anything that he has. We might just have to buy the repair materials out of our own paychecks.”

Tim blinks again. He was surprised at himself. He’s not sure why he’d automatically included himself in this mess. Duke just looked so pained that it was hard for Tim to keep off.

“Yeah,” Duke slumps, “you’re right.”

He collapses on his bed. 

Tim smiles wobbly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Duke groans. “It’s not going to be fine. I’m going to be fired after ruining my room on the first day on the job!”

Tim disagrees, shifting his weight, “No. That’s unlikely. The fact that Mr. Wayne hired you at all means that he’s not going to let you go easily. He barely has enough employees as is. I mean, man, have you seen the giant squid?”

Duke sits up.

“Oh, man, have I,” Duke confirms. “That thing is a beast.”

“He’s huge,” Tim agrees. “He looks like he could swallow me whole for breakfast.”

Duke gives it a thought. He shivers. “No thanks. I’d rather stay intact. At least we don’t have to swim in his tank. That’d be horribld.”

“Talk about it,” Tim laughs, “imagine swimming in the same tank with a creature ten times your size.”

“I’d rather not,” Duke laughs in return. “Anyways, thanks for coming to give the curtain rod a look. I appreciate the insight even if it wasn’t really what I wanted to hear. I better just tell Alfred about it.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “that’d probably be the best course of action. But, hey! Don’t worry about it! I know what I’m talking about when I say that Mr. Wayne’s going to let you keep your job!”

“You’ll have to forgive me for my skepticism,” Duke groans, “I’ve been fired from other jobs because of the mistakes I’ve made. It’s inevitable.”

“Well, if you think like that,” Tim says, “then it might just be.”

Duke furrows his brows.

“What do you mean?”

Tim shrugs. “It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you believe it, the more likely it’ll come true by your own hands.”

Duke stares at Tim for a long moment. Tim fears he might just have said the completely wrong thing, and he was ready to make up for it by pulling through with some affirmations about Duke’s strengths (which, in hindsight, wouldn’t have meant a lot considering the fact that Duke didn’t know him all that well). 

Instead, Duke surprises him.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay,” he says again, mostly to himself, “I’m not going down that road. I am not going down that road. I can do this. I have the right to hope.”

Tim cheers. “That’s the spirit!’

Duke beams at him. “Yeah. Okay. Okay. I think I can do this. I can.”

“For sure, man!”

Duke smiles at Tim. “You’re pretty cool, Tim. Do you mind if I call you Tim?”

“Not at all.”

“Great, you’re a pretty chill dude, Tim. You want to throw some hoops with me? Curfew isn’t until 9:00.”

Tim blanks. He’s never been invited to something before.

“Hoops? Oh. Sure? I mean, I don’t know where we’d do it, but if you know a place…?”

Duke snorts. “You haven’t seen the outdoor basketball court, yet? It’s massive.”

“There’s an outdoor basketball court?”

“Yeah. There is,” Duke confirms, “you up to shoot?”

Tim nods, far more eager this time, “Count me in!”

“Great!” Duke says, “Maybe I should invite that other girl? Cass?”

“Sure?” Tim says. “I don’t know. It’s worth a shot?”

“I think she might enjoy it,” Duke says, pulling himself off of his bed. “She’s pretty quiet, but I bet she’d like to be included.”

Tim agrees.

They end up finding Cass in her room. She quietly peeks through the crack of her door when they knock on it, and when Duke invites her to dribble out on the court she silently agrees. 

Tim didn’t know a lot about Cass other than the fact that she would be in charge of all of the resident’s diets. He wondered how she must have gained enough experience to be in charge of such a thing, and he also wondered what she must have done to be brought in by Bruce. Tim had overheard Dick talking to Alfred about her, and whilst he felt a little bad about eavesdropping, he was interested in learning that Cass was brought in by Bruce after he’d found her at a charity ball.

The three of them end up going out to the court. Tim’s never had an entire conversation with another boy his age, and he found the entire thing a rather refreshing experience. 

Duke asks, as he passes the basketball he’d brought from home to Cass, “So, Tim, how’d you end up working for Mr. Wayne?”

Cass gracefully accepts the pass. She dribbles the ball on concrete. Multiple lamp posts lit up the entire court.

“I’ve always been interested in the cursed,” Tim says, watching as Cass pulled the ball up in a shooting position, “and I’ve heard all the stories about the quality of Mr. Wayne’s sanctuary. I know that I don’t have any outstanding qualifications, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to apply for an interview. Something must’ve gone right after I talked to him, though, because now I’m here.”

Cass pops the ball out of her hands. It cuts through the air and lands in the hoop. Duke whoops for her. She gives him a shy smile. 

“That’s cool,” Duke says, “I’m pretty much in the same boat. My mother was cursed not too long ago-”

Duke catches the ball before it can go off court. He starts bouncing it.

“But she’s recently recovered. It was terrible. I didn’t want other people to experience what I did, so I decided I’d do everything I can to help people who ended up like my mom.”

Duke shoots for the hoops. 

It goes through the net.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tim puts out, sympathetically, “is it alright if I ask…?”

Duke knew what he was implying. He nods his head as he retrieves the ball. “Sure thing, man, she straight up turned into a harpy.” Tim watches a shiver run down Duke’s frame. “She wasn’t the prettiest after her transformation, but she sure could sing!”

Tim catches the ball after Duke passes it to him.

“Did you find out what was wrong with her?” Tim asks, turning his eyes away to assess his chances of getting the basketball through the net.

Duke shakes his head. “No. Not really. I mean - I tried everything I could - but in the end it took my grandmother. I don’t know how she did it. She just entered a room with my mother one day, and after a few of her harpy screeches she came out throwing up feathers.”

“Oh, that’s, um, nice,” Tim says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Duke snorts. “I was just glad to have her back. It took her a while to recover from being a harpy, but I’m glad that she’s human again. I didn’t know how much I missed her until she was cursed.”

Tim throws the ball. 

The ball bounces off the rim.

Cass catches it.

Tim winces. He’d never been the sporty type. He’d been more of a recluse in his room. His closest companion had always been his laptop.

“Well, good for you, Duke. I’m glad things worked out,” Tim says.

Cass dribbles the ball on the concrete ground.

“What about you, Cass?” Duke asks. “What’s your reason for applying?”

Tim presses his lips together. He wanted to tell Duke that she hadn’t applied, but at the same time he didn’t want to let Cass know that he knew that information.

Cass falters. She goes back to dribbling the ball.

“Bruce,” she states in one word. 

“Mr. Wayne?” Duke asks for clarification. 

She nods. The evening breeze runs through the bangs of her black pixie hair cut. 

“He,” she pauses, trying to find the words she needed to use, “he took me out of a bad situation.”

Duke and Tim both exchange glances. They knew, from her tone of voice, that it was a sensitive topic.

“Cool,” Duke says.

Tim nods. He’s not sure what else to do.

Cass shoots the ball again. It, too, bounces off the rim. Tim doesn’t feel like the odd one out anymore.

They continue to play basketball, taking turns shooting, talking, until they all hear the sound of clopping hooves against cement. Tim turns to see a familiar looking foal staring at them with curious green eyes, and he momentarily blanks as to what he was supposed to do about the sight.

“Damian,” Cass is the first to greet. 

The foal whinnies, digging a hoof in the ground, and then trots over to her. He recognized his name.

“They need to fix up that pasture,” Duke says aloud. “This is the third time he’s escaped today.”

Cass hums as she runs a hand through Damian’s short black mane. The foal clearly enjoyed the attention.

“I have a feeling,” Tim says, looking out at the setting sun, “that we’re going to deal with this a lot.”

Tim watches the setting sun. He checks his wrist. It was currently 8:00 which meant they just had one hour before it was time to hit the hay. But, before they can do that, he knew they ought to put Damian back in his pasture.

“I’ll get Dick,” Tim says.

The other two members of his company nod.

“Sounds like a plan,” Duke says. 

Tim takes their nods as an approval, along with Duke’s affirming verbal acknowledgment, and steps foot off the court. He might not know Cass too well, but he already trusted she could distract Damian long enough to keep him in place. 

Tim enters the manor again. He tries to remember which room was Dick’s, and he mentally prays that he’s got the right one when he knocks on a brown wooden door. He hoped that, if it wasn’t Dick’s, that’d it just be an empty storage room. He’d hate to interrupt Mr. Wayne or Mr. Pennyworth by knocking on their door. He felt more comfortable entrusting this matter to Dick than the two busiest men in the house. 

Tim is utterly, and completely, relieved when Dick answers the door with a towel around his shoulders. and water dripping down his cheeks. His hair was completely soaked. It was obvious he’d just finished taking a shower.

“Tim?” Dick asks.

Tim smiles awkwardly. “Dick. Um, hey, I’m sorry to disturb you. It’s just that - uh - Damian got out of the pasture again. We were playing basketball when he came up to us. Thought you should know.”

Dick’s expression gets real tired, real fast.

He rubs his eyes with a hand. His exhaustion was plain to see. Tim suddenly understood, then and there, that Damian’s escape attempts were not doing good for Dick’s emotional health. Tim could somewhat understand. He imagined that if he had a little brother, that he wouldn’t be incredibly delighted to have to make sure he didn’t escape his pasture.

Hm. Wait a second. That doesn’t make much sense. Damian was a special case. Little brothers aren’t secluded to grazing pastures. That’s just odd.

“Thanks for telling me, Tim,” Dick says, taking a step out of his room. “I’ll go collect him. I might just have to put him in the corral tonight.”

“The corral?” Tim questions as Dick takes the lead back downstairs.

“Yeah,” Dick says, tossing his hair up with his towel, “It’s either that or the stables. Damian’s not going to like either one, but what can you do when he’s probably going to escape again? I really don’t know how he does it.”

Tim watches Dick’s back as he follows him out into the foyer. It was clear that Dick loved his brother. He wouldn’t be so concerned, so invested, in his being otherwise. Tim admired that. He admired it a lot. It was in these small, small, realizations that made Tim wish he wasn’t an only child. He sometimes yearned to have another sibling to dote on, or maybe even an older brother to have looked out for him when he hadn’t been able to look out for himself. Tim felt he’d done fine being alone most of his life, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wish things had been different. It was hard not to compare.

Needless to say, Tim understood that Dick didn’t want his brother getting away, and for good reason. Damian could run away one day, for good, and he’d be lost to his family forever.

They make their way outside. Dick goes straight for the lit up court where Cass was running her hand over short tufts of black baby foal fur. Duke was standing next to her with his basketball underneath his arm, pressed against his side.

Dick places the towel back around his shoulders. He steps onto the court.

“Damian,” Dick calls out.

Damian gives Dick one good look, brightens, and then prances his way excitedly. 

Tim takes note of the behavior. He felt it was important to know. Oftentimes, the creature that a person’s soul turned into represented what they were struggling through, and so something in Damian’s behavior had to be a hint as to what was going on in his psyche.

“You’re too much trouble,” Dick mutters as the foal presses up against his side. Damian looks up at him expectantly.

Dick rolls his eyes. He pats Damian’s back. “Come along, now, it’s off to the corral for you.”

Damian, who probably didn’t have much of an idea of what he was saying, was just happy to be next to him. He followed Dick at his side as the man started heading for his destination, bare-footed.

Tim didn’t know how he managed it. It terrified him. Any man who braved the dark with bare feet ought to be feared.

The next day starts at 5:30 in the morning.

Tim is dead tired as he forces himself to his feet. He dresses himself in a casual set of work clothes which included a grey t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. He groggily pulls socks over his feet, rams them into tennis shoes, and then eventually ends up dragging himself out into the hallway. His nanny had always told him he was a lousy early-riser, but she hadn’t been around long enough to correct his bad habit. Tim didn’t correct it, either, after she was gone. Her constant nagging made him stubborn. He didn’t want to fix something she complained about. He was sticking it to her, in some strange way, for only caring about trivial things instead of him as an individual.

Tim pulls himself out of the manor with a checklist in hand. It had boxes that he needed to accomplish by checking off, and a list of instructions listing every single thing Dick had already highlighted the day before. 

Tim starts his shift off by clocking in via phone call. He then tucks his phone back in his pocket, eyes the first item on the list, and then heads in the direction of the water pump. The image of Dick demonstrating how the water pump worked was clear in his mind, and Tim felt he’d have no trouble replicating the motions. 

The water pump was the easiest morning routine that he figured he’d get used to real quick. He worked the pump enough times to get the water to fill the bins for the creatures in the sanctuary, and when he was done he checked off the item on his clipboard. 

Tim would have to set the clipboard aside when entering the feed shack. He spends about an entire hour just figuring out which dispenser belonged to which creature. There were a few creatures that Dick had told Tim not to worry about, and one of them just happened to be Jason who was still in his stall.

Tim takes to feeding the demon chickens first. 

He grabs the basic chicken feed, mixed with chunks of dried jerky, and then lugs it all in a wheelbarrow. Tim has no idea why they have so many demon chickens, he’s not sure why so many people turn into demon chickens either, but he felt he’d get his answer if he worked long enough. There was just no way he wouldn’t get that kind of information after feeding them every day. 

Tim finds their pen. They were already all out and about, pecking at the ground, and when they see him he sees the red glints in their eyes.

Tim swallows thickly at their death stares. He opens the door to their pen, and then rolls the wheelbarrow in front of him. He feels like he’s trapping himself in the pen when he latches the door behind him, but Dick said that he’d be fine. The demon chickens wouldn’t eat him. He’d said it four times.

It must be true if he said it four times. 

Tim dumps the wheelbarrow out into the open.

The chickens pounce on the pile of food like a bunch of brain-eating zombies. Tim watches the giant pile of feed disappear in just a matter of seconds. The chickens had practically inhaled the mountain of chicken feed. It showed to Tim that they had huge appetites despite their small little bodies. 

Tim can’t help but wonder how that’d relate to their underlying emotional issues as he eagerly escapes the pen.

Tim saves Stephanie for last. 

He spends about thirty minutes standing outside her building with a boatload of anxiety, fear, and racing thoughts. He has the bucket in his hand, it hurts his fingers because of how long he’d been carrying it in place, but Tim just could not find himself entering Stephanie’s nest without some major courage. 

Tim doesn’t end up building the courage that he needs to walk into her nest. He ends up forcing himself to open the latch, reminding himself that he can’t stand out in the open forever when he needs to prove how much of a hard worker he was, and he then pushes himself to take a step into her giant space.

Stephanie’s massive head lifts from her two front talons. 

Tim wants to faint. He’s feeling light headed as she stands up.

She eyes him, not unlike the previous day, and then takes a step to approach him.

Tim feels his stomach roll. He’s about ready to puke in the bucket instead of feeding her the contents.

Stephanie chirps.

It startles Tim so bad that he drops the bucket, takes a step back, and braces himself against the door. 

Stephanie looks at him like a specimen under a microscope, something to be studied, because to her he sure must look strange.

Tim holds a hand out in front of him.

“D-Don’t come closer,” he says.

He doubts she can understand him, there were only a few creatures intelligent enough to understand human speech, and he didn’t think Griffins were one of them.

Tim tries to gain his wits about him again. He tries to remember how Dick had told him to feed Stephanie.

“S-Sit,” he says, weakly.

Tim is aware his voice isn’t loud enough. He tries to sound firm when he says, again, “S-Sit.”

She doesn’t sit. She takes another step closer. Tim’s just about ready to have a heart attack.

“Sit!” Tim shouts out, panicked.

Stephanie hears him this time. She plops down.

Tim takes a deep breath. He stands braced against the door for a solid minute as he tries to calm his racing heart. He truly did fear he’d have a heart attack if it beated any faster. He’d rather avoid that entirely if possible. 

Tim tries to get his tongue working. He stumbles, “Roll- Roll-over.”

Maybe she takes pity on him because despite having the voice of a boy who can barely be heard even with a microphone at the spelling bee, she does end up rolling over, and then she sticks her limbs out in the air.

Tim commands, feeling better now that she wasn’t in a position to pounce him, “Open your beak.”

Stephanie does exactly that.

It takes Tim another minute to push himself off the door. He’s trembling when he reaches for the ladder waiting for him on the wall nearby, hung by a couple of hooks in the wall, and then he ends up pulling it off. He’s all shaky as he carries the ladder towards her cheek, feeling like he was a character in a cartoon.

He leans the ladder against her. She doesn’t even flinch.

Tim grabs the bucket. He struggles to pull it up the ladder with him. He’s watching Stephanie the entire time in his peripheral vision. He doesn’t trust her even after Dick had shown him that she wouldn’t hurt him. Not likely. 

Tim dumps the feed into her beak. He watches it go down her throat. 

He then flies down the ladder. He flies down so fast, ready to jet out of the nest as quickly as possible, before Stephanie can recover herself. He’s tugging the ladder after him without any care for it’s heavy leaning weight, and he doesn’t even put it back on the hooks in his eager attempt to escape. 

He shoves himself out the door. He almost drops the bucket on the way out.

He hears Stephanie shuffle inside. He doesn’t care. He’s just grateful to be alive. He releases the heaviest breath he’s ever exhaled.

Tim bends over himself. The bucket ends up dropping on the ground anyways, and he leans on his knees to recover. 

Tim knew it’d been his dream to work in this specific sanctuary, but damn was he going to have a hard time doing this every morning. He distantly wished Dick were there to help coax him through it again. He felt sorely unprepared even after having been shown what to do.

Tim wipes his lips with his short sleeve.

He’s really gotta figure out how to used to this or else he wasn’t going to make it very far.

Tim has a two hour break in the afternoon. He takes the time to go back to his room, and write down everything he knew about Stephanie on his laptop. He was looking at his options. Stephanie was a big, terrifying griffin. Tim didn’t want to have to feed her everyday. He’d do everything within his power to avoid as much terror as possible. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it, and so he resorts to his laptop to record what he does know about her.

Because - if she has the curse reversed - he wouldn’t have to feed a giant griffin anymore. 

Tim types down what little he knows.

First things first, Stephanie could be trained, and listened to basic commands.

Second, Stephanie liked laying eggs for people. How was that relevant to her curse? Tim’s not sure.

Third, Stephanie doesn’t need to eat. Not a lot. She primarily feeds on affection which-

Tim stops typing.

He buries his face in his hands.

Which I didn’t give to her.

He’d have to go back.

That was the only way. He needed to pet her. He needed to show her affection even though he was absolutely terrified of her. 

Tim really didn’t like that idea. He really didn’t like it.

At this thought, in a wave of dread, Tim hears a knock on his door. Quiet. Polite.

“Come in,” Tim croaks.

The door opens. 

“Tim?” Cass says, softly.

Tim lifts his face from his hands. He looks at her.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “Something wrong?”

“I have a request,” she says.

Tim gives her his full attention. “Yeah? Which is?”

Cass rubs her shoulder. She shifts her weight. It was clear she was nervous about whatever she was going to ask.

“About, um, Stephanie,” she whispers, “I thought that maybe… maybe you wouldn’t mind if… if I…”

She pauses.

“If I took care of her.”

Tim feels his heart erupt into relief. 

Maybe he’s too eager in his response. “That’s great! That’s-”

Tim stops himself. He buries his face in his hands again. “That’s great, but, dodging my fears isn’t going to make it any better.”

He hears Cass sit on the edge of his bed.

“Fears?” She questions.

Tim nods. “Yeah. I’m not going to lie. I’m absolutely terrifed of Stephanie. She’s freaking humongous, she’s got sharp talons, and she looks like she could rip me up with her beak. But even then, passing my duties off on someone else isn’t going to prove anything, and I’m not going to grow if I do it.”

Tim looks up from his hands again. He considers Cass who listens to him mutely.

“That’s why I thought that maybe I’d just see if I could reverse her curse,” Tim mumbles, “and maybe just take the duty away altogether. That way, I won’t feel guilty about not wanting to feed her.”

Cass’ stoic expression lightens in interest.

“Cure her?” She asks, intrigued.

“Yeah,” Tim confirms, “I thought about looking into her behavior. Maybe figuring out why she’s been here for so long, and what’s keeping her here, too. I’m sure there’s a correlation somewhere. I just need some time to think over it.”

Tim spins in his desk chair. His laptop still resting on his desk.

“Do you think you can do it?” Cass asks, lighting up even more, “Do you think you can cure her?”

Tim stops spinning. He stares up at the ceiling.

“I mean, yeah, if I give it enough time.”

Cass likes that answer. She hums in delight. 

Tim switches his attention off of the ceiling and back over in her direction.

“Cass?” He asks, curious. “Do you know Stephanie?”

She’d been too excited about his confession. Not only had she wanted to take over his duties, but she’d also been delighted to him say he wanted to cure her. 

Cass smiles sheepishly. 

“Yes,” she answers, honestly, “she’s my best friend.”

Tim internally winces. 

Talk about ouch. Imagine having one of your best friends turn into a cursed being, and stay that way for seven years.

“Childhood friends?” Tim asks. 

“Mhm,” Cass replies. “We played together all the time.”

Tim turns back to his laptop. He’s struck with an idea at Cass’ admission.

“Okay,” Tim says, typing out the new information she was giving him, “you were best friends. That means you must know a lot about her, right? Tell me. What kind of things did she like? What was her home situation like?”

Cass frowns contemplatively. She runs a hand over her forehead to swipe her bangs out of her face.

“Hm,” Cass hums thoughtfully, “well. She liked sports. She had a big heart. She loved talking to people. She was a social butterfly.”

Tim types it all down at lightning speed. 

“She had a hard time with her father. He wasn’t very nice. Her mother wasn’t there for her. Not really. When she was, she’d yell at her, even if she was with her friends.”

Emotional neglect, Tim writes out, and possible childhood abuse.

“She still smiled regardless. I loved her. I still love her.”

Tim feels like he’d hit the jackpot with Cass. He wondered if Mr. Wayne knew that she used to be friends with Stephanie. If he did, then had he already considered all of this? 

Tim connects two dots. He’s not sure how they play in the bigger picture yet, but he can see the correlation between behaviors.

Stephanie feeds on affection. She’d been possibly neglected as a child. She was compensating for it.

Tim knew he’d have to find evidence to cement this fact, but this was already a great head start. He was excited to not feed Stephanie in the future. 

“What else do you know about her?” Tim asks. “Were you there when she shifted?”

Cass starts fiddling with her hands in her lap. Upon further contemplation over Tim’s question, she removes her hands entirely, and leans backward on them for support against his mattress. “No.”

Tim stops typing. The air in the room had changed. Either Cass was super distressed that she hadn’t been there for Stephanie, or Tim was starting to get on Cass’ nerves. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He really couldn’t tell with people sometimes. It was hard not to take someone’s worsened mood, and think that it wasn’t meant for him.

“She was alone,” Cass says, staring up at the ceiling, “when she shifted.”

Which, Tim mentally notes, was often the case for the cursed.

“I wish I had been there,” Cass lowers her voice back down into a whisper, “to stop her.”

Tim turns in his chair.

There weren’t a lot of cases of people being in the same room as someone who transformed into a magical creature, but the few cases that did have that happen usually gave some more insight as to what their problem was. Those people were typically cured faster than the average cursed individual. There were some exceptions, and even then exceptions were just about 1% uncured by now. It was simply because the person in the room with the individual often had more insight as to what their emotional issue was. 

Shifting was a traumatic experience regardless. Considering the fact that Stephanie had been cursed for seven years meant that, should she ever be cured, she would revert back to a human in an older form. She would have missed seven years of her human life spent as a griffin instead of a member of society’s youth. She would’ve missed a lot of public school experience in elementary, if Cass’ age was anything to go by, and almost all of secondary school as well. She’d have to spend a long time just to recover over the fact that she’d missed out such a large part of life, and that the entire world had continued to move on without her.

But, if she was cured, at least she would be normal again. She could handle her emotions in a healtier way, and apparently it looked like there were people waiting for her to get better. That was usually a good sign. 

“I think she would’ve wanted you to be safe,” Tim says, carefully, “and that she wouldn’t have wanted you to be in the same room as her.”

Cass continues to stare at the ceiling. She gives his words some thought, at least that’s what Tim thinks is happening in that brain of hers, before she decides to add, “You should go on Youtube. It’s there, you know, the video of her?”

Tim blinks.

“Search up Griffin in Gotham,” she supplies.

Tim glances back at his laptop. He turns his chair again, starts typing out Youtube in his search bar, and then automatically brings the website up. He searches for Cass’ keywords.

There was only one video about a Griffin in Gotham, and it was repeated several times in Youtube’s search results under different channels. There was news coverage, some bright-eyed kids discussing what had happened, a video of witnesses recording their experience with what they saw, and more. Tim decides to settle for the first video, the news report, which had an obscene amount of views. He was certain that there were more people that had seen the video than live in Gotham.

Tim pulls the video up. 

“This the one?” He asks.

Cass pulls herself up from his mattress. She hovers over his shoulder, gently placing a hand on it, and it takes everything within Tim not to flinch.

They both watch as someone with a phone camera captures a portrait-styled video of a giant griffin spreading its wings out of its sides. The creature screeches with an awful cry, picking its body off the ground, and lifting itself off of the wreckage underneath it.

“That’s where she used to live,” Cass says, pointing out the destroyed house underneath her, “and fortunately there wasn’t anyone home.”

Tim fights the urge to switch to his Microsoft Word to write down that she’d shifted at home. The location was usually significant when factoring what had changed an individual. 

“That must have been terrifying,” Tim mumbles. He watches as the camera follows Stephanie swoop down in the air. 

He’s not sure how they managed to capture her. Mr. Wayne had to have had a hand in it, no doubt.

“I just want her to be better,” Cass whispers. “Can you make her better?”

Tim grimaces. “I mean, I could give it my best shot, but again. It’d probably require a lot of time.”

“I don’t care,” Cass says, leaning off of him, and heading back for his door, “I’ll do whatever I need to in order to help you. I’ll take care of Stephanie’s duties until you find out what’s wrong with her. You can blame it all on me.”

“Wait,” Tim says, standing up from his chair, “I know I’m kind of a coward when it comes to taking care of Stephanie, but I think I’ll still need to accompany you when you feed her in the mornings. It’ll give me some insight about her curse.”

Cass stops at his door. She glances over her shoulder.

“Okay,” Cass agrees.

She leaves his room.

Tim is left to his lonesome sitting in his chair to ponder over what had just happened. He was a little giddy that he wouldn’t have to take care of Stephanie’s feeding anymore, but he was also a little guilty that he’d easily given the duty over to Cass without a struggle. And, to top it all off, he wanted to cure her to prevent himself from ever having the responsibility. It was good in a strangely motivated way.

Tim just wished he was a good person, and that he had a good motivation.

Chapter Text

“Don’t brood too hard, old man, or else you’ll turn into one of the cursed,” Kate warns him as she shuffles through paperwork on the coffee table. They’d both decided they needed a break, and so sitting out in the living room had seemed like a great idea. He just wished Kate hadn’t brought her work with her. Bruce felt like he was the only one actually taking a breather. Kate was just there to entertain his insistence that they relax. 

“Did you have to bring paperwork with you?” Bruce finds himself asking as he switches on the television. He’d have to find some way to get Kate to pull herself away from her workaholic behavior because Bruce had been down that path, he was still sorta on that path, and he knew how unhealthy it could be. He was certain that if he talked to her about it, though, that she’d end up chewing him out. She’d point out things he’d done in the past, giving him no room to refute her claims, and then she’d get all smug about it like she always does. 

“I do what I must to get the job done,” Kate says with a sniff, running her eyes over a chart in her hand, “and sometimes that means working overtime. You just hate that you have to pay me extra.”

Bruce raises a brow. “Are you aware of who you’re talking to?”

The news flicks into color on the television screen. The news anchor, a pretty woman with blonde hair curled up in a bun, talks about the worrisome weather patterns working up in the harbor. 

“I’m perfectly aware of who I am speaking to, yes,” Kate says. 

Bruce grunts as he focuses on the television. He usually got most of his news off of the internet, but sometimes he liked to sit out in the living room to get his daily report. He relied heavily on the news. It was where he got most of his information of recent sightings of the cursed population. He wouldn’t usually get a call from the GCPD until they had a cursed in captivity, so oftentimes he had to go out searching the streets himself with one of his trusted friends. Sometimes he liked to bring Kate along, other times Gordon had some free time to go monster hunting, and occasionally Selina would drop by to work with him if it pertained to her part of the city. 

Bruce had stopped lugging Alfred out. The man was getting too old. He might be the epitome of a healthy senior, but Bruce didn’t want to have to put him in danger. He already worked with creatures that could gobble him whole. That was dangerous enough. There was no need to add monster hunting to the list. Bruce was also trying his best to keep Dick out of the mess, preferring if his oldest son was safe, but sometimes it was hard to penetrate the wall of stubborness Dick had inherited from him. 

Bruce hadn’t needed to fight him off recently, though, not since Damian.

Bruce runs a hand down his face at the mere mention of his youngest.

It was his fault.

It’d all started in the alleyway.

Bruce grows grim just thinking about it. He knows everything goes back to his parents, every cursed individual, every creature that ends up in his sanctuary, but to have his own son turn into one was one of the biggest failures he’s ever had to face. It wasn’t just Damian, either, because Jason was another person who he’d directly affected. Bruce felt guilty for the temperamental dragon hunkered down in the stables. Bruce would’ve kept him as far away from his current state if possible, but now he was a dangerous dragon that Bruce couldn’t figure out. 

Bruce was good at getting to the root of the emotional issues of the creatures that were brought into the sanctuary. The typical residency of the cursed was five months tops, if he didn’t count Stephanie, but Jason was a difficult nut to crack. He couldn’t get close enough to put any cameras up in his stall, he couldn’t observe his behavior without Jason completely shutting down, and he couldn’t find any clues in Jason’s history. Jason had never given him a last name, and asking around the streets he’d used to patrol had only earned Bruce a near stabbing incident. He tried to find any possible criminal record with the GCPD, drawing up nothing, and then he tried the public education system. Nothing. 

Bruce had never heard Jason talk to him about having any parents. The only conversations they had was when Bruce came around bearing gifts. Sandwiches. Jason would end up entertaining Bruce by sitting on a bench with him, and then Jason would feed him information about sightings of the cursed. He was just a teenager at the time. Bruce estimated he was twenty now. It was a depressing realization. 

Bruce had no leads. Barbara couldn’t give him anything from the internet. Bruce was at a loss. His heart falls for perhaps the hundredth time as he takes the burden of guilt upon himself, remembering that Jason used to have a future, but then Bruce had to be an idiot and draw him into the business. Jason didn’t ask for this. Never, in all of Bruce’s absolute nightmares, had he dreamed Jason would end up as one of their long-term residents. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, his mind makes it worse by wandering back to Damian, because his son was a winged horse. He’d lived under Bruce’s own nose, giving Bruce no indication that anything was wrong, until one day Bruce had found him in his room tangled in bed sheets on the floor with four hooves. Bruce had been so hurt, so heartbroken, that he couldn’t bring himself to visit Damian out in the pasture. He’d failed Damian so irrecoverably, so horribly, that Bruce wasn’t sure if he even deserved to visit his baby. Dick was the one who was taking care of Damian, even while in mourning, and Bruce had been the pathetic worthless father who shut himself in his room for several days straight eating only the bare minimum. 

Who, in their entire life, had to put their six year old son outside? To shelter in an enclosed stall. 

The news is white noise as he dives into his spiral of thoughts. 

He has to force himself to pull out. 

Because, Kate had a point, brooding could turn him into one of the cursed.

He was surprised, to be honest, that he hadn’t already shifted. Jason had been an absolute nightmare, but Damian had been the pin in the coffin. 

“In other news,” the news anchor’s voice filters back in, “the Thomas Wayne foundation has a big part to play in hippogriff research-”

Bruce wonders if he’ll ever escape the media.

“It’s hard to believe that it’s been twenty four years since their tragic-”

Kate grabs the remote from Bruce’s hand, and turns off the television. 

“They can’t stop talking about you,” she grumbles in explanation.

Bruce stares at the black screen. 

“You’d think they’d come up with something original for once,” Kate sighs as she organizes her paperwork into a pile. She finishes up by stacking it up. Once she’s done, she leans back onto the couch, and kicks her legs out onto the coffee table. Bruce leans forward to make sure that the paperwork didn’t get kicked off by moving it to the right. “I mean, let’s be honest, you’re not the most interesting person in Gotham.”

Kate softens. She glances over at Bruce.

“Maybe you should take a break somewhere else.”

Bruce considers the idea. 

He wouldn’t have to consider it for long. He hears the awkward cough of someone behind them, and he turns to look over his shoulder to see who it was. It couldn’t be Dick, he wouldn’t care about alerting Bruce about him, and it couldn’t be Alfred, either. His coughs were strangely regal.

Bruce’s eyes stop on a finger fumbling teenager.

Tim Drake.

“Tim!” He greets, putting on a smile, pretending for a moment that everything was fine. Kate snorts beside him, but he ignores it in favor of making their newest employee feel welcome. “Do you need something?”

Tim’s eyes flitter around the room nervously.

“Yes sir,” he says, “I was hoping to speak to you, um, alone.”

Kate raises a brow. She crosses her arms. 

“Is it urgent?” Bruce asks, standing up.

“I, well, I wouldn’t really say it’s urgent. It’s just, I don’t know, something that I need input from you specifically,” Tim says.

Bruce appraises Tim. He looked like he’d been working outside, which was a good thing, and he also had a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Bruce was fairly certain it had originated from working out in the sun, one of the reasons why Bruce encouraged everyone to finish their outdoor chores in the morning, but he wouldn’t doubt if nervousness played into it, too. Tim was a bright young lad that really made an impression on Bruce, but the kid could get real worked up when he was around people who were older than him. Bruce didn’t mean to make him afraid, but it seemed there was a problem rooted there that wasn’t specifically related to Bruce. It was attributed to nearly every adult.

“Okay,” Bruce decides, rounding the couch, and gesturing out into the hallway. “We’ll go to my study.”

Tim agrees with a noise in the back of his throat. 

Bruce exits out into the hallway. He leads Tim up the stairs, down another hall, until they reach his study. He’s the first to enter, and he tells Tim on the way in, “Close the door behind you, would you?”

Bruce replaces the couch for his cushioned desk chair. He makes a grunt when one of his joints pop. He hates that sound. 

Tim does close the door behind him, but he sticks to it instead of taking another step into Bruce’s study.

Bruce decides it would be better to remain patient. He gently encourages, “Why don’t you sit down?”

Tim takes the invitation easily, seemingly waiting for it, and sits across from Bruce. His hands rest in his lap where he could pick at his fingers.

Bruce grabs hold of a stress ball from one of his drawers. He starts pressing it into the palm of his hand, allowing his hand to hang lazily from the arm of his chair, as he eyes Tim. He waits for Tim to say something, to start up with whatever he had wanted to talk about, but after a minute of odd silence Bruce comes to the realization that Tim was waiting for him to give him permission to speak.

Bruce didn’t like that.

He didn’t like that at all.

“Why don’t you share some of the things you have on your mind?” Bruce prompts, inwardly frowning, because something was wrong with Tim’s behavior overall. 

Tim blurts out, “Do you mind if I ask you some questions about the history of one of the residents?”

Bruce pauses. His fingers stop digging into the stress ball. 

“That depends,” Bruce says, “what are your intentions?”

Tim starts messing with his hands. He presses his thumb on the ball of his palm. He doesn't look Bruce straight in the eye as he says, “Well, uh, I was thinking about how Stephanie has been here for seven years. I thought that maybe I could give her curse a shot because, um, well, Cass told me they were childhood friends, and, yeah.”

Tim looks down at his hand. 

“I mean, I don’t mean any offense, of course, I just thought that maybe I’d be able to figure out something if you told me what you know about her history. Like, Cass told me about her dad, and I was wondering if you knew what happened to her parents?”

Bruce gives Tim a hard stare. 

He was willing to give Tim a shot, he was willing to give anyone a shot when it came to breaking a curse, but he wasn’t one to openly spill out information on their resident’s history unless absolutely necessary. 

So. Bruce tests him. “How do I know you won’t give this information to someone who might want to do harm to my sanctuary?”

He always liked the direct route. 

Bruce watches Tim’s body language.

Tim still has a hard time looking Bruce in the eye, but he manages to muster up the courage to do what his mind was surely fighting against. 

“I,” he stumbles, looking flushed, “I wouldn’t do that. I just- I just want her to be better.”

“For what reason?” Bruce asks. “Do you think it’ll give you a promotion?”

Tim startles. He blinks, eyes wide, and says, “What? No. I- I wasn’t thinking that at all. I’m just, ugh, how do I put this? I-”

Tim flushes deeper. He messes with the collar of his t-shirt.

“This is going to sound dumb, and I really shouldn’t tell you this when it’s like my second day on the job, because I really don’t want you think any less of me, but Stephanie terrifies me. I’d rather not have to feed a giant griffin every morning.”

Bruce stares.

Tim shifts in his seat. Bruce was aware that he was making Tim uncomfortable, but his brain was still analyzing Tim’s honesty.

Finally, leaning back in his chair, Bruce barks out a laugh. He tosses the stress ball over to Tim, and Tim fumbles to catch it with a small amount of shock.

“Tim,” he says, “do you know what I value most in an employee?”

“What?” Tim manages to ask, keeping the stress ball in the grip of his right hand. 

“Honesty,” Bruce says. “Here’s what I’ll tell you. Stephanie’s father is a convict. He’s been out of her life ever since she was born. Her mother, however, deserted her for a month-long vacation before Stephanie transformed. I imagine that was the hinge point for Stephanie’s issue.”

Something sharp passes through Tim’s eyes. “So she was neglected by her mother?”

“It would seem that way,” Bruce says.

Tim squeezes the stress ball. “What conclusions have you already made about her?”

“Well,” Bruce says, interlocking his fingers, and resting his hands in his lap, “I felt it safe to assume that she was deeply hurt by a childhood of trauma. It finally manifested into the curse after her mother left. I feel that, deep down, she doesn’t want to be alone.”

Bruce frowns.

“The problem with that, however, is that adding socialization in her life won’t cure her. We’ve exposed her to other magical creatures, people, and even a couple of her old friends. None of those things has prompted a recovery.”

Tim ponders over Bruce’s words contemplatively. 

He puts the stress ball on the desk. 

“Maybe it isn’t that she’s lonely,” Tim says, “maybe it’s not just socialization she needs. Maybe she needs a family.”

Bruce blanks. 

“I mean, I sort of understand where she’s coming from,” Tim says, rubbing the back of his neck, “because I didn’t really see my parents all that often when I was younger. The only thing I ever wanted was to spend time with them, but they always left for year-long expeditions in other countries.”

Bruce opens his mouth. He’s still not computing the information correctly. “They left you?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “I was fine. I had my nanny, the housekeeper, and some of the landscapers.”

That didn’t sound fine in Bruce’s book.

“But,” Tim says, “other than that. Yeah. Maybe Stephanie just wants a family.”

Bruce runs a hand through his hair.

Had that really been it?

Had that been the answer all along? Had it truly been something so simple?

“What do you propose we do?” Bruce asks because they couldn’t just go out, find a bunch of griffins, and force them to live together. 

“Well,” Tim says, sounding smaller, “maybe she needs to get adopted?”

“Adopted,” Bruce repeats.

“Yeah, given a family, one that won’t desert her,” Tim says.

Bruce feels bewildered.

“Tim,” he realizes aloud, “I think you’re onto something.”

Tim is nearly skipping as he tends to lunch for the sanctuary. 

There’s a bounce in his step, that’s for certain, because Mr. Wayne had told him that Tim was onto something. He’d even thanked him for his insight. He hadn’t fired Tim for complaining about his desire not to feed Stephanie, and he’d told Tim that he appreciated his honesty! Tim didn’t think he could be any happier than he was at that moment, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt anything as thrilling, but he was running the events in Mr. Wayne’s study over in his mind like a film reel. He was reliving it with every thought. He just couldn’t get enough of it. He’d won Mr. Wayne’s approval.

Tim is happily swinging his bucket as he takes a shortcut through the stables. He takes one step out the other side through the exit, but then he pauses briefly to take a few steps back towards Jason’s stall.

Tim had been so drunk on Mr. Wayne’s approval that he couldn’t help but consider the possibility of further praise through solving the other issues that might be plaguing their other long-term residents. 

Tim releases the bucket to raise himself on his tiptoes. He leans his weight against the steel stall door to look through the small window that led into Jason’s nest. Tim wasn’t sure how they changed out the hay, he imagined Dick was the one who handled it, but Jason’s stall was overall tidy looking. The snoozing red dragon in the middle seemed content, but then Tim catches sight of a few of his cracked scales. 

Tim winces when he sees the green goo pouring out of Jason’s hide with the consistency of honey.

Tim had to be frank with himself. He hadn’t even been aware that the cursed could catch ill when they already were, in a way, sick. How had Jason’s scales cracked to begin with? 

Tim continues to stare as he observes Jason. He freezes in his boots when Jason cracks an eye open.

Tim is completely unprepared for Jason’s ferocious roar. Tim stumbles backward when Jason pops up on his feet, and rams himself into the steel door. Tim isn’t so happy anymore when he hears Jason’s claws screech against steel. The window turns red for a briefest of moments, lighting up with fire, before receding altogether.

Tim, afraid, hightails it. 

He grabs hold of his bucket with clumsy fingers. He stumbles out of the stables with a racing heart, feeling like he’d gotten himself in deep trouble, and tries not to listen to Jason’s angry screams. 

Tim hadn’t done anything wrong. Logically, he understands this, but for some reason he felt as if he’d provoked Jason. It felt like it was his fault for riling him up like that even if all he did was look into his window.

Tim gets as far away from the stables as physically possible. He leans himself against a fence to catch his breath, not even realizing he’d been running at all until after the fact, and then his eyes drift over a wide grazing pasture with supposedly limitless space for four-legged mammals. 

Tim’s eyes roam the waving grass. He then allows his vision to drift to the right where it freezes over an interesting scene.

Damian stares at him, caught, with his mouth around the other side of his gate’s hook lock.

Tim didn’t know he was so close to the gate, he probably wouldn’t have noticed without Damian being there, but now he was quite aware that he’d caught Damian in the middle of letting himself free. 

Tim, despite feeling like his heart was on fire, breathes out, “Was the coral not enough last night?”

Damian slowly pulls the hook out of the latch. He watches Tim the entire time as he does it, and Tim watches him back with just as much intensity. 

The hook falls limp. Damian pushes the gate open with his head, and then he trots out with a prideful showcase of high hooves. 

Damian shakes his head in the air, tussing up his mane, and then he approaches Tim. Tim inhales deeply as Damian presses his head against Tim’s bucket hand. 

Tim, not wanting to drop the bucket, uses his other hand to answer Damian’s nonverbal request. He strokes Damian’s snout, runs his hand down his mane, and then repeats the process. He feels his heart slowly fall into a calm as he runs his fingers over Damian’s muscled cheek. Damian leans in his palm with a happy puff of air. 

“Why can’t everything here be like you?” Tim whispers.

He wouldn’t have been so frightened if there were just a bunch of foals running around. All he’d have to worry about is them being too smart for their own good, escaping pens, and figuring out how to unlock their gates.

Tim sighs. He eventually settles his bucket on the ground, and he tries to nudge Damian back towards his pasture. 

“C’mon,” Tim mumbles, “get back to where you belong.”

Tim leans off of the fence. He walks for the gate with a hand on Damian’s back, and Damian is all too happy to follow him. Tim is in front of the gate when he tries to nudge Damian inside, but Damian stubbornly sticks in place looking up at Tim instead of where he was supposed to be.

“C’mon,” Tim tries again, pushing at Damian’s hip, “get along.”

Damian doesn’t do that. 

Tim stares down at Damian.

How, he wonders, did Dick get Damian back into his pasture? Damian wasn’t moving. He wouldn’t go forward. Not even with Tim’s encouragement. 

Tim tries a different approach. He moves his hand to Damian’s rear to pat him forward, hoping it’d prompt him forward, but Damian sticks his hooves in the ground. Tim frowns as he tries to put more force into it. Damian budges this time, digging his hooves in the ground to push against Tim’s force, and Tim has to increase his strength to compensate. He grits his teeth as he tries to push Damian in, but the foal decides he’s had enough. He steps out into the side, and Tim falls face first in the dirt.

This is what he gets, he supposes, for being too happy.

Damian whinnies. Tim feels his nose press against the back of his head.

Tim groans. He waves Damian away, saying in a muffled voice, “Leave me alone, traitor.”

He feels Damian tug at his hair. Tim wants to cry. 

“Damian,” a voice calls. 

The mouth leaves his head. Tim picks his head up to figure out who’d called Damian away, and when he twists his body he’s not at all surprised to see Dick call Damian over to him with a pat on his thigh. 

Dick’s hands were mostly occupied. He had a bucket full of tools in one hand which included a curly comb, a hoof pick, soft brush, face brush, clippers, and more. His other hand had a phone in it which he was currently putting back in the pocket of his jeans. 

“You okay, Tim?” Dick asks with concern.

Tim pulls himself up.

“Yeah,” Tim mumbles, rubbing the back of his head, “I think I just figured out how Damian’s been getting out.”

Dick looks at the troublemaker who brushes against his side.

“Oh? I’d like to hear this,” Dick says. He pats Damian’s cheek. 

Tim hears a crack of his bones as he gets back up on his feet. He doesn’t bother looking at the state of his clothes. He begins by demonstrating closing the gate, and then he points at the basic hook feature that Damian had learned to open.

“He takes the hook out,” Tim explains.

He wanted to say more, but that’s all that there was.

Dick settles the bucket on the ground. He approaches Tim as Damian decides he ought to inspect the tools with his nose, sticking it into the bucket, as Dick examines the gate closely. 

He sighs. 

“Figures,” Dick mumbles.

His eyes linger on the gate for a moment before darting back to Tim. He frowns.

“You okay? You’re looking pale.”

Tim blinks. “What? Really? I’m fine. Do I really look pale?”

Tim didn’t think he should mention Jason.

Dick hums in confirmation, narrowing his eyes as he looks over Tim, and Tim feels a tinge of nervous sprinkles run down his arms. 

Dick reaches out a hand as if to touch Tim’s arm, and Tim grits his teeth to keep himself from flinching.

Dick’s hand stays hovered in the air between them. Tim watches as something flashes through Dick’s eyes, as if he’d remembered something, and then his hand falls back to his side.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Dick says. 

“Oh! Uh, no need, I’m fine,” Tim says, again. 

Dick furrows his brows.

“Are you sure?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. I can go for a few more hours.”

Dick takes one good look at Tim. Tim feels as if he’s reading his very soul. Finally, after a moment of scrutiny, Dick turns away to retrieve his bucket again. 

“Why don’t you come with me into the stables?” Dick suggests, hauling the bucket away from Damian’s curious sniffing. “I can show you how to take care of Damian’s coat.”

Dick starts walking. Damian follows him.

“Uhm,” Tim says, staying in his spot, “I thought you said you didn’t want me doing any of Damian’s duties?”

Dick halts. He turns to look over his shoulder.

“Well,” Dick says, “I didn’t realize this until later, but I could really use someone who knows how to treat Damian’s basic needs if I get sick. You never know, right?”

Dick turns. He starts walking again.

“Right,” Tim ends up whispering to himself. He’s still frozen. He waits until Dick’s a couple of feet away until realizing that he should probably chase after him, and so he erupts into a jog, grabbing his own bucket, and catches up to Dick’s retreating back. 

In hindsight, Tim would learn, Dick was just trying to get Tim to rest.

“I don’t care what it takes, Bruce, I want Stephanie.”

Bruce raises his brows as he sits across from Barbara Gordon, the daughter of one of his closest friends, with two meals in between them on a table. Barbara had called him up in order to take him out to lunch, but Bruce had quickly found out that it wasn’t just a leisurely outing. He had figured from the beginning that Barbara probably had something to say, but he had no idea that she’d end up talking about Stephanie. Which, he felt, was a different odd matter. How had she even found out that he was trying to go over adoption options? He’d been looking into families that might be willing to take Stephanie in, considering his closest friends, and even himself. The only reason he hadn’t been the first choice was because he was afraid it wouldn’t help Damian’s emotional dynamic at the moment. 

He didn’t know how it’d end up changing Damian’s situation, and if it’d possibly aggravate his condition.

Bruce grabs a packet of ketchup. He rips off the top.

“Barbara,” he says, pouring it onto his tray, “you’re twenty-four.”

Barbara crosses her arms over her chest. Her half-eaten burger was forgotten.

“Which means I’m old enough to rent a car, drink, go into a club, and adopt.” 

“I’m not sure you know what you’re getting into,” Bruce says, “how did you find out about this anyways?”

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Please. Nothing gets past me.”

Bruce dips a fry into his ketchup. He wishes they were in a proper setting to discuss this, but Barbara had decided to bring it up during his precious lunch. 

“I know you feel like Stephanie’s a kindred spirit, Barbara, I really do,” Bruce says, “and I know you put a lot of work into curing her, but I’m not sure it’s in your best interest to take her in.”

Bruce brings the fry up to his mouth. He pops it in. 

“She’s not just a kindred spirit, Bruce,” Barbara hisses, grabbing one of his fries, and pointing it at him accusingly, “I’m the reason her father ended up in jail! I ruined her life! I made her turn into one of those- those things.”

“That’s not a good reason to adopt someone,” Bruce says.

“No,” Barbara reluctantly agrees, pushing the fry into her mouth aggressively, “but this isn’t just because I want to make up for my mistakes. I would be lying to say that wasn’t a big driving motivator, but damn it, Bruce. That girl deserves all the love I should’ve given her when her dad got slammed into prison.”

“Barbara, as a man with three children, I’d advise you to let me handle this. You don’t understand what kind of responsibility you’re taking on.”

“I am perfectly knowledgeable over what needs to be done. You,” Barbara says, standing up halfway out of her seat, jamming a finger on Bruce's chest, “just get me those adoption papers.”

Bruce frowns. “Barbara-” he tries.

She wasn’t having it. “Nope. Not hearing it. If you don’t get it done, I will, and you know how efficient I can be. I’m giving you a choice to participate Bruce. This is going to happen whether you like it or not.”

Bruce says, “You’re not the one with an army of lawyers.”

“Yeah?” Barbara retorts, “Well, you need me Bruce, and I’m not sticking around if you take this opportunity away from me.”

Barbara pulls back. She plops in her chair with a huff.

Bruce makes a heaving sigh. He wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

Barbara shakes her head. “Nope,” she pops.

Bruce runs a hand through his hair. He then uses the same hand to start digging through his pocket to bring out his phone. 

“Okay, since you’re absolutely insistent, I want you to show up at Stephanie’s nest next week, Monday, 8:00 in the morning, sharp. Think you can manage that?”

“You know I can Bruce,” she says.

Bruce starts scrolling through his schedule. He makes an appointment that would not only include Barbara, but Tim as well. Bruce couldn’t imagine doing it without him. If Tim was right, then Bruce wanted him to see it with his own eyes, because maybe it’d give him a well-needed confidence boost.

And?

Bruce swallows thickly.

If Tim was right, then maybe Bruce could get his help with Jason and Damian.

Tim tries to avoid Damian’s wandering mouth as he plops down on a stool. Damian, for some reason, during his entire grooming session had tried to munch on Tim’s hair. Tim’s not sure if that was at all related to his psyche, and thinks that maybe Damian was just messing with him. There was no way he would try to eat his hair otherwise, unless he had something against hair, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Hair wasn’t very nutritious either.

“Here,” Dick says, tossing Tim a carrot, “try this.”

Tim catches it. He quickly offers it to Damian.

Damian sniffs it. Tim watches as Damian chomps down on it immediately. It was a familiar treat.

Dick grabs one of Damian’s hind hooves. He lifts it up in between his legs, and starts using the hoof pick with his back facing Damian’s rear. Tim can’t help but glance his way every few seconds, switching between watching Damian eat, and Dick work on Damian’s hooves. 

“Do you- uh- mind if I ask you something?” Tim questions without looking at Dick. He doesn’t think he can do it without darting his eyes away like a coward.

Dick grunts in affirmative. 

“How long has he been like this?”

Dick is silent. Tim curses his big fat mouth. 

“I think,” Dick starts up, “it’s been about five months.”

Tim lets Damian take the rest of the carrot out of his hand. 

Tim goes quiet. Dick does, too, with only the sound of Damian’s hooves being cleaned. Tim can’t imagine what Dick was going through, or what Mr. Wayne was going through, but he could imagine that it wasn’t easy. 

“It’s weird,” Dick confesses, “to have your brother turn into a mythical creature in just one night. Have you ever had someone close to you turn into one of the cursed?”

Tim swallows dryly. 

“Yeah,” he croaks.

Dick nods in acknowledgment. “Then you know how much of a surprise it is. It’s not just the fact that he’s another creature, but it’s also the fact that he’s been going through something that’s emotionally distressing enough to be cursed. I thought he was doing fine- I- damn it- I’m sorry. I don’t mean to off-load this all on you. I just can’t talk about this stuff with anyone else. They all look at me like I need therapy.”

“It’s fine,” Tim blurts out, “I sort of understand. My um - my nanny - she actually was the one who got cursed.”

Dick lets Damian’s hoof go. He moves to the next one on his left side.

“Oh,” Dick says, “I’m sorry. That, wow, that must’ve been scary.”

“Yeah,” Tim laughs, breathlessly, “it was scary. It was a mess.”

Tim felt he shouldn’t mention that he had three giant claw marks on his back.

“So I can imagine how scary it was for you,” Tim says, “to have someone close to you turn into something else. I - um - is it wrong for me to assume you think it’s your fault?”

Dick laughs apathetically. “What gave it away?”

“I feel that way, too,” Tim whispers. “Sometimes, all I can think about is what I could’ve done differently, but in the end I had to move on. I couldn’t think about it too hard. Not if I wanted to end up in this sanctuary.”

Dick exhales shakily. Damian’s hoof drops. Dick straightens himself and stares at the hoof pick in his hands.

“I have dreams sometime,” Dick admits, “dreams of transforming. I try not to entertain the negativity, though, because Damian… Damian needs me. I can’t just- I can’t just let myself go and get cursed so. Yeah. I get that, Tim. I do.”

“You’re strong if you’ve been ignoring the call,” Tim says. “not a lot of people have that fortitude.”

Dick offers Tim a sad smile.

“I guess I could say the same thing for you,” he says.

“Ha, yeah, well, I try,” Tim says, feeling his cheeks warm, “but I hope one day we don’t have to worry about being cursed.”

“That’ll be the day,” Dick agrees. 

He’d been standing without doing anything for too long. Damian moves his head to try to bump Dick, but it doesn’t reach all the way.

Dick huffs out a light laugh. “Okay, Damian, don’t worry. I’ll get back to giving you your princess treatment.”

Damian snorts, runs a hoof over the ground, and then shifts his weight.

“You know,” Dick says, moving to Damian’s front left leg, “he would’ve gotten mad at me for calling him a princess.”

“What’s your relationship with him like?” Tim finds himself asking. 

Dick hums thoughtfully. Tim gives him the time to collect his thoughts before he answers, “I was there when he was born. His mother passed away at his birth, and Bruce brought me along to retrieve him from the hospital. I’d been an only child then, and man was I jealous.”

“Jealous?” Tim blinks. “Why?”

Dick smiles. “I just thought that Bruce would value someone who was biologically related to him more than some circus kid. I should’ve thought it over though because, in all reality, I was a super spoiled sheltered kid.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, “Bruce had a hard time telling me no. For a long time. When Damian came along I thought about him like he was competition, but things started to change after Bruce set up the sanctuary. I guess the hard work, combined with the selfless service, had a lot to play in my realization that I wasn’t acting the way I should. I wasn’t even really a brother until Damian turned four.”

Tim bites the inside of his cheek.

“So, in a way, I feel like it’s my fault, you know? I ignored some pretty important developmental years of his life, straight up neglected him, and now he’s living outside eating carrots, and grass.”

Tim’s not sure what to say to that. 

“I owe it to him to take care of him,” Dick says, “to make up for the lost time.”

Tim raises a hand to stroke Damian’s face. 

“Well,” Tim says, unsure how else to go about Dick’s feelings, “I’m sure he’d be grateful to learn you’ve been taking care of him in this state.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Dick replies.

“No, seriously,” Tim says, “I’m sure he’d give you the biggest hug, get all smug like little siblings do in the TV shows, and give you one of those big goofy smiles.”

Tim can’t stop himself. He really felt like he was stepping out of turn considering the fact that he knew nothing about Damian, he was mostly going off information he’d gotten off of the television, but he continued regardless, “And then he’d start annoying you like he hadn’t in the last five months.”

Dick falls on the ground on his bottom. He buries his face in his hands.

“Frick,” he chokes, “Frick,” he says again, with a hoarse voice, “I want that. I want that so bad.”

“You’ll get it,” Tim promises, “I’ll help.”

Tim inwardly curses. What was with his inability to keep his nose out of other people’s business?

“What?” Dick croaks out, “You mean reverse the curse?”

He lifts his face from his hands. Tim wasn’t looking at an authority figure anymore. He was staring at a vulnerable older brother who was emotionally lost. 

“Yeah,” Tim says, “two heads are better than one, right?”

Damian turns his head to start pulling on Dick’s hair. Dick sits there as if he couldn’t even feel it, staring at Tim, and then he blinks a few watery tears out of his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dick says, “yeah. You’re right. Two heads are better than one. I just- I don’t know- You don’t really know us. I don’t think you should feel obligated to help me.”

“I want to,” Tim insists. 

“Tim,” Dick tries, voice drained of all energy.

Damian looks up at Tim with the tilt of his head. Tim returns the look.

“Let me help you,” he says, looking at Damian for a moment longer, before returning his attention to Dick. “I know I must look like some dumb kid, but I really do want to see if I can help in any way.”

Dick wipes a hand down his face, and then over his eyes.

“I never thought you were a dumb kid, Tim,” Dick says. 

Tim stops himself from gaping.

“I’m not sure how you can help,” Dick admits, “but I appreciate the offer. What are you thinking might help Damian out?”

Tim’s shock turns into determined resolve.

“Well,” he starts, “first we need to see if Stephanie turns back into a human on monday.”

Chapter Text

Tim tries not to look like a total wimp when he takes a step into Stephanie’s enclosure. He takes a big gulp as he does, hoping that she doesn’t pay any attention to him, because Tim hadn’t been having the greatest time over the last past week observing her behavior. Cass did most of the feeding, sure, but Tim had forced himself to accompany her each time. He had hoped to prove to himself that he could do hard things, but each visit was absolutely terrifying in its own right. Tim hadn’t been fortified mentally with any of the visits. Stephanie was still a scary giant griffin no matter how obedient she could be. Tim was still utterly frightened of her, and exposing himself to her didn’t make it any better. 

Regardless, he was here now when it really mattered, and he wasn’t the only one.

Tim was late. He enters the nest. He makes a mental head count of all of the people who had arrived before him. The only people missing from the sanctuary’s employee list were Alfred, Cass, and Duke. They hadn’t been informed of the events that were to occur, and it was mostly so that Stephanie wouldn’t have to be overwhelmed should she actually be reverted back to her human form. Tim felt bad about excluding Cass, the girl obviously loved Stephanie with her desire to take care of her, but Bruce had limited the amount of people who were allowed to attend.

Dick wasn’t supposed to be in participation, but after Tim had told him about what was happening on Monday he’d been insistent on being there to witness the adoption. If Tim was right about Stephanie, then it only reaffirmed the fact that he’d be able to help Dick with Damian, and it would show Dick that Tim had been genuine with his offer. Tim would win his trust, he’d get to hear the information that he didn’t have about Damian’s situation, and then he would be able to formulate his own conclusions based on Damian’s quirks. He was confident in his own deductive reasoning. 

Needless to say, Tim is pretty sure he’s semi-responsible for Bruce’s disgruntled expression, and Dick’s stubborn ignoring. He wasn’t looking at Bruce at all. His attention was fixed in front of him whilst his father observed him with wary reluctance. The strange atmosphere between them extended beyond Stephanie. Tim wondered if it had anything to do with Damian. 

“About time, squirt!” The woman who calls herself Kate Kane says, “Close the door behind you!”

Tim does exactly that. 

Tim’s eyes wander after closing the door. He realizes that there was one face he didn’t recognize amongst the people in attendance, and it belonged to a bold woman sitting on Stephanie’s talons with a form in her hand. She was holding it up in the air, with narrowed eyes in speculation, and a pen was held by her other hand. It hovered over paper, thoughtfully, with ink that carried a fate-changing weight. Tim didn’t know who the woman was, but he assumed the form in her hand was one of the few adoption papers sitting in her lap. 

“Will this work?” She asks skeptically, looking up from the form, “I mean, all I’m doing is signing the form, and it’s not like we’ll immediately be comfy with each other.”

Bruce rolls his shoulders. “You were the one who wanted to do this. Are you backing out?”

“I’m not backing out,” she snaps, “I’m just wondering if it’ll do anything. This is by far the simplest solution we've presented in the sanctuary, and it just feels like it’s too good to be true.”

“There’s no harm in it,” Bruce says. “Just sign your name.”

The woman glances over the forms to give Bruce a look. Tim notices how anxious she looks. She hides it behind a strong front, but he watches her throat move in a hard swallow. 

Stephanie lowers her massive head. She keeps a big yellow eye on the woman sitting on her talons in interest. 

“Okay,” the woman breathes out, “okay.”

The woman lowers the form on one of her crossed legs. She presses the pen against the line, and Tim watches as she signs out her signature.

Nothing happens immediately. 

They all wait in anticipation as she takes her pen off of the line. There isn’t a single breath to be had between all of them. Bruce is tense, jaw tight, and Dick’s veins were popping out because of how hard he was crossing his arms across his chest. Kate was resting a hand on her hip, and when thirty seconds passed she shifts her weight. 

“I don’t think-” Kate begins, ready to say more, but then the strange woman shoots off of Stephanie’s talon.

The giant griffin widens her eyes as they glow a blinding yellow. Tim winces, holding a hand up to temporarily cover his eyes, but he peeks between fingers with strained eyes to watch her begin to shrink. 

Tim’s never heard of an instance where more than one person was in the same room of someone being cured of their curse, no one often gave their time to the cursed to begin with, but here he was in an event that might as well be historical. If not for the world, then for the sanctuary, and certainly for Stephanie.

Stephanie’s screeching squawk is an ear-shattering noise. Tim can’t cover his ears without taking his hand shield away from his eyes, and so he’s put at the mercy of ear-bleeding sound waves that his hearing was not created to tolerate. 

Tim gives in. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that’d be enough to protect his vision, and then his hands slam over his ears. He’d rather protect his senses than witness a reversed curse.

The yellow light penetrates Tim’s eyelids. Closing his eyes didn’t seem to really do anything to keep the strength of the light away, but thankfully it doesn’t last long enough to do any damage. Tim struggles to pull up his eyelids when the light fades, and he sees yellow spots in his vision as he takes note of the giant space lacking an important occupant.

Kate grabs hold of a tarp hanging on the wall. She jogs towards the ginger woman, stands in front of pale feathered limbs, and throws the tarp over the ginger’s new companion.

The woman who’d signed the adoption papers grabs hold of a new pale hand. Tim notices the long nails, sharpened, like digging talons. He’s bewildered at the sight. Stephanie might not be a giant griffin anymore, but she retained characteristics that she shouldn’t have. Not if the curse had been reversed. She had feathers sticking out of the side of her arm, blanketing the entire front of each limb, and there were feathers poking out of her blonde hair, too. When she opens her eyes, the irises are still a sickly yellow, and Tim can’t look anywhere else.

“Why is she still…?” Dick asks the question they’re all thinking.

Tim tries to find the logic behind the magic. 

The only theory he can conjure is that Stephanie, despite now being a part of a family, needed more than just having papers signed. She needed the time that the curse was giving her to have her new mother prove that she was the answer to her problem. 

“Where…?”

Stephanie’s eyes fall onto the hand holding hers. She looks up at her new adopted parent. She allows her vision to linger over the woman for a few seconds, but then she starts to glance around the building with furrowed brows. 

“What’s going on?” She asks.

Her eyes drift down to her arms.

She sees the feathers. She pauses.

No one needed to answer her. She figures it all out by herself. Tim sees the comprehension wipe across her features.

“Oh.”

“Hey, Stephanie,” the woman greets, “My name is Barbara Gordon. How are you feeling?”

Stephanie looks back up at Barbara.

“Um,” she says, eyes wavering, “I think I’m fine? I don’t know. What- um- oh gosh- am I… am I cursed?”

Barbara’s sad smile is all the answer Stephanie needs.

Stephanie leaves the griffin’s nest for the manor. Tim doesn’t follow, not when he has feeding he needs to do, but he’s immensely relieved that he doesn’t have to go to the griffin’s nest anymore. He doesn’t have to grab the stupid ladder, climb up the side of Stephanie’s face, and pour food in her beak. He doesn’t have to watch Cass do it, either, because now he’s a free man. Now he just has to worry about demon chickens, their resident unicorns, kelpies, and adult pegasi. There were other creatures, too, but there were too many individual unique species to list off. 

Once Tim is done with his morning chores, however, he doesn’t get very far without running into Dick. 

The man stops Tim by stepping out in front of him. He’s got a look of determination in his eyes, and Tim doesn’t want to mess with it. 

“You proved your point,” Dick says, “what do we need to do?”

Tim gets a little excited at the show of trust.

“Well,” Tim says, stepping past Dick to head back to the manor, because that’s where his laptop was, “first we need to write down all the facts. We can make assumptions based on what we already know.”

Dick follows him. Tim feels amazing because for once in his life, he’s some kind of leader. He’s the one in charge, the one people rely on, and it’s a thrilling sort of feeling. 

“How about this,” Dick says, “you get your laptop, I get my notes, and we meet up in the library?”

Tim is quick to agree. “Sure.”

When they enter the manor they take their separate ways. Tim ends up retrieving his laptop from his room, bumping into a friendly Duke on the way out, and then he tries to remember the way to the library. It takes him about four minutes to figure out where he was going, and it takes another two for Dick to appear with a manilla folder in his hand. Tim wondered where he had to go to get it, and if they had similar folders for every creature that lived in the sanctuary. It’d make sense if they kept a record to help them solve emotional problems.

Tim sets his laptop on one of the wooden tables. Dick slaps the file across from him, and settles himself on the opposite seat. Not only does he look determined, but he also looks eager. Tim was seeing a different part of Dick that he hadn’t seen before. Dick had looked drained of energy for the past week. His expression always fell when they talked about Damian, and his mood overall would change drastically into a reserved bout of depression. Now, Dick looked the opposite. Now he looked ready. Alive. 

His face had a little more color, he almost seemed to have an added youth to him, and he was picking his feet off of the ground with each step he took. It was different from the small, careful steps he took when lost in deep, deep, thought. 

Tim opens up his Microsoft Word for his own personal note taking.

“Okay,” Tim says, “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions for my own notes.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dick says, opening up the manilla folder to reveal a few sheets of paper. 

“When did Damian change?”

Dick looks over the sheets, but he already knows the answer in his heart. He replies, without much examination, “Five months ago. April 6th. Bruce found him in his room in the morning.”

Tim types it all down. He doesn’t have any trouble keeping up. Not with the skills he had to summarize things, and to write one-hundred words per minute. 

“Okay. What have you already noticed about Damian?” Tim asks. “In regards to his behavior.”

“Well,” Dick drawls, propping up an elbow on the table, and leaning his cheek into the palm of his hand. “He likes to run away. He’d fly away if he could. We learned that pretty quick.”

“Do any of the other pegasi in the sanctuary do the same thing?” Tim asks.

Dick lifts his cheek from his palm. He shakes his head. “No. It’s just Damian.”

“Have you seen where he tries to go when he escapes?” Tim questions.

“When he has his wings unband? No. When he escapes his pasture? He usually roams aimlessly until he bumps into someone.”

“I’ve noticed he likes to stick by you when you cross paths with him,” Tim observes aloud. “I imagine he must’ve admired you or really liked you before he was cursed.”

Dick blinks. He leans forward. “Wait. Really?”

Tim stops typing. He glances over his monitor to give Dick a good stare. He didn’t think Dick was the type to miss that sort of detail, but maybe his grief had blinded him to things that he could have picked up.

“You’re his favorite,” Tim says, “Just think about it. When we were shooting hoops out on the basketball court? He didn’t even think twice about leaving Cass to approach you. Then, when I was eating dirt, he was pretty excited to stop messing with me when you called for him. Oh, and let’s not forget to mention when he followed you around all day when you were showing me how to feed the cursed here at the sanctuary.”

Dick’s eyes are wide with bewilderment. 

“You-” He swallows in realization, “You’re right.”

“Is that a surprise to you?” Tim questions.

Dick blinks. “Surprise? Uhm - yeah - kind of. He’s just never given me any inclination that he likes me before he was, you know, cursed. I tried to get closer to him by spending time with him, but he just always seemed to want to spend time with Bruce instead.”

Now that was an interesting note.

First, Tim consoles, “I’m sure the time you took out of your day to spend with him wasn’t lost on him.” Second, Tim inquires, “What was his relationship with Bruce?”

Dick crosses his arms. “He loves Bruce. He admires him. He wants to be like him. He tried to do whatever he could to impress him, but Bruce was busy a lot of the time with the sanctuary. Damian spent most of his time with Alfred.”

Tim thinks of his own parents. He starts typing again.

“Okay,” Tim says, typing it all down, “how was his relationship with the people outside of the family? Did he have any friends?”

Dick thinks for a moment. “Yeah. He had a friend who visited sometimes, her name was Maps, but we don’t know if he had any other friends from school. His teachers told us that he was pretty quiet.”

“Is he quiet at home?” Tim questions.

Dick laughs. “No. He talks. He talks non-stop.”

“Was there anything out of the ordinary with how he acted when he returned home from school?”

Dick’s brows dig into his forehead. “No, not that I’m aware of, but if you’re thinking something might’ve happened at school, well, we’ve already investigated that possibility.”

“What did you investigate?”

Dick rubs his chin with his hand, holding his arm up at the elbow, “We talked to his teachers, the principal, and all of his classmates. We had Barbara run a scan over the security feed they relinquished to us, but none of her programs picked up anything out of the ordinary.”

“Did the security feed have sound?”

Dick shakes his head. “No.”

Tim stops typing.

“Then I don’t think that’s a reliable source of figuring out if Damian had a problem at school. He could’ve talked to hundreds of kids without making it look like he was angry at them.”

Dick goes quiet. Tim goes on, “Have you talked to Maps?”

“Yes,” Dick says, slowly, “we did.”

“Does she go to the same school as him?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Dick rests his forehead in his hand. “She said Damian had trouble making friends.” 

“That could factor in,” Tim hums. “Have you checked Damian’s room after he was cursed?”

Dick looked nauseous. 

"No,” he says, “I couldn’t. I- I was occupied with taking care of him. Alfred was the one who went through his room.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

Dick stands outside Damian’s room when Tim is given the permission to rummage through his things. He was leaning against the nearby wall outside in the hallway, crossing his arms firmly against his chest with a seemingly impassive expression. Tim knew better, though, with the clues he received from their previous conversations. Dick felt guilty. He didn’t want to be painfully reminded about what his brother could’ve been if not cursed.

Damian’s room was as big as his own except there were a few things that highlighted his personality. When he looked through Damian’s desk he found two sketch pads, three boxes of crayons, and a big plastic pencil bag full of markers. When Tim pulls out the sketch pad to go through the pages, he sees explosions of color, and the amatuer art of a six year old expressing his imagination. Almost every single doodle had something to do with an animal or a mythical beast, but the last page of Damian’s second sketchbook had an interesting look into his psyche.

Tim appreciated the stick figure drawing outlined in marker because unlike the rest of Damian’s obscure sketches, the stick figures each had a name floating over each head, written poorly by a clumsy hand. Damian’s stick figure was in the middle, and he was holding hands with two others. Dick and Bruce stood on each side of him. Alfred was holding Dick’s hand, and Bruce was holding-

Tim squints his eyes.

mommy

Tim tucks the sketchpad underneath his arm. Dick didn’t look like he totally believed that Damian liked him, and he thought that the sketchpad had enough proof that Tim was right. Damian did like him. He liked him a lot.

“Dick?” Tim asks, raising his voice so he could hear him out in the hall, “What was Damian’s relationship with his mother?”

Dick calls back, “What do you mean? I told you. She died in childbirth.”

“Did anyone ever talk to him about her? Share any stories?”

Dick takes a second to compute Tim’s question.

“No,” he answers.

Tim moves from Damian’s desk to his closet. Realizing he needed two hands to go through clothes, he gently places the sketchpad onto Damian’s mattress, and then he returns to his task. He looks through pockets, feeling bad for going through someone’s closet like this, but he wanted to know if there was anything Alfred missed. When he is finished his eyes catch sight of a shoe box tucked in the corner on the floor. Tim finds himself crouching down to pull it out. 

“Why did you ask?” Dick’s voice calls out again from the hallway.

Tim opens the shoebox. He finds a messed up composition notebook, water-stained, and wrinkled. He pulls it out. He runs through the pages with his thumb. The journal seemed to be Damian’s diary, but his entries were rather simple.

Feburaree 8, one read, I like pizza.

The next day makes Tim snort.

I hate pizza.

“Did he ever tell you what he thought about his mother?” Tim returns. “I think it might be important.”

Maps likes pizza, too, but I hate pizza. 

Tim puts the journal aside. He looks through the other knick knacks in Damian’s shoebox. He finds the deserted shell of a snail, two wilted flowers pressed on paper, and a photo. 

Tim stares at the photo.

“Actually,” Dick voices in realization, “he’d ask about her a lot.”

He didn’t know that Damian’s skin was darker than his family’s. He had read about Damian on the internet, sure, but he never saw any photos of him. Mr. Wayne was fiercely protective over him, at least that was what Tim had assumed. So, when everyone talked about Damian, Tim had automatically pictured him to look more like his father. 

In the photo, smiling, Damian was clinging to his father’s hand. Dick had a hand on his shoulder on his other side, and a woman with dark pixie hair was hugging Mr. Wayne’s left arm. 

Tim grabs the photo. He runs out of the room, grabbing the sketch pad on the way out. He skids to a stop in front of Dick who looks at him in surprise.

“Who’s this woman?” He says, holding the photo out.

Dick takes the photo from his hand.

“That’s Selina,” Dick answers, “She’s my dad’s fiancee.”

“Does she live here?”

“No, she visits sometimes, though. She won’t be moving in until they get married, but they postponed the wedding when Damian was cursed.”

Tim hums in interest. 

“What did Damian think about her? How did he behave around her?”

Dick frowns. “He was quiet. He didn’t say a lot.”

Tim feels like he’s hit the jackpot. It’s a lead. 

“Okay,” Tim says, grabbing the photo back from Dick’s hand so he could return it to Damian’s room, “here’s what we’re going to do from here.”

Tim pushes the sketchpad against Dick’s chest.

“We’re going to interrogate Damian’s teachers again,” Tim insists as Dick grabs hold of the sketch pad, stunned, “and then we’ll talk to Selina.”

Dick frowns. “You think that Damian has a problem with Selina?”

“That, or something else, something more specific to him,” Tim says with a shrug, “I can’t say for certain.”

He eyes the sketch pad in Dick’s hands.

“Turn to the last page,” he directs.

Dick keeps his eyes on Tim for a second before listening to him. He opens the sketch pad with hands that increase in shaking fervor, having some trouble flipping past Damian’s doodles, and when he reaches the last page he just stares.

“He loved you more than you think,” Tim notes.

Dick stares blankly at the family sketch for a long, long, moment. 

He squeezes his eyes shut in emotional pain.

“I’m an idiot.”

Tim leaves Dick to set up the appointments with Damian’s teachers. He’d never interrogated adults who were older than him before, but Tim was certain with a brand new confidence that he could do it. It might be because he’s on a roll, or maybe it was because talking to Dick was helping him get out of his comfort zone. Regardless, Tim was proud of his progress, and he felt that he wouldn’t have any trouble with talking to some of Damian’s teachers. 

It’s late in the evening when Tim starts preparing for bed. He’s thinking about Damian’s behavior the entire time, about how he runs away, and wonders if it was as simple as it seemed. Maybe Damian was looking for an exit from his emotional stress.

Tim compares Damian’s situation to his own. He thinks about how often his parents were gone. He remembers them telling him that they loved him, that they cared about him, and having the words completely fall flat in his heart. Tim never believed them when they told him that. How could someone who doesn’t spend time with him even like him? In fact, when he was with his nanny, he was pretty sure that spending time with someone didn’t amount to love, either. It was the actions, the words, that counted.

Did Damian feel the same way?

Did he think that he wasn’t loved?

Maybe he knew Dick loved him, because that’d explain why he liked being around him, but did Damian know his father loved him? Had he felt betrayed when his father told him he was going to marry another woman?

If that was the case, Tim mutters, “I feel you, Damian.”

Tim is done getting his pajama bottoms on when he hears a knock on his door. 

Tim answers it. 

He’d expected Duke, Dick, or even Kate (which is strange since he’d never really spoken to her). Instead, he stares wide-eyed at Stephanie Brown, who returns his look with a nervous one of her own. 

“Hey,” she says, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Hi,” Tim says.

They both stand in place for a while. Tim doesn’t think about inviting her in. Not when he’s dressed like he’s about to go to bed, but he doesn’t tell her to go away either. 

“So,” Stephanie starts after an awkward moment of silence, “Barbara told me you’re the one who had that whole idea about the adoption papers thing.”

Tim nods dumbly.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she whispers, digging the toes of her right foot into the ground, twisting her foot in a nervous dance, “I- I’m not happy that it’s been so long, but it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t come. I’m- It’s-”

She has trouble with her words because, after her confession, she bursts into tears.

Tim panics.

“Woah!” He says, “Um - don’t cry - uh - just, why don’t you sit down?”

He steps aside.

Stephanie nods, sniffing with a congested nose, and walks in without a hint of hesitation. Tim leaves the door open so she’ll feel safe in a room alone with him, and he guides her to sit on the chair next to his desk.

Stephanie sits down rubbing at her nose with the feathers on her arm.

“I’m a freak,” she gasps, “if only I hadn’t let my emotions get the best of me.”

“You’re not a freak,” Tim insists, crouching down, grabbing at her hands.

He feels compelled to do it. To comfort her. To touch her. 

Which is strange, considering his aversion.

“It’s hard,” she croaks, “it’s been seven years and- this body- I’m so ugly- and I’m older, and I’m just crying my eyes out in front of a boy who I’m not even supposed to be the same age as. You’re, like, supposed to be my older brother or something. Not someone my age.”

She was panicking. Tim squeezes her hands tighter.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says, taking note at how much younger Stephanie was acting despite being one of his peers, and it probably had more to do with the mentality she had before she’d been cursed, “things are going to be okay. I’m sorry that you’ve been cursed for so long, but good things are going to come out of it. I promise.”

“How can good things come out of being cursed?” Stephanie sobs, looking into his eyes brokenly.

Tim didn’t want to mention how she wasn’t related to her neglectful mother, and her convict father anymore, feeling as though pointing that out would be insensitive. He instead offers, “You have a family. People who want to be with you. Friends who love you, and have been waiting for you.”

That doesn’t really help all that much. She cries even harder.

“Cass is old!” she cries out. 

Tim winces. He wasn’t good at this. “She’s been waiting for you all this time,” he points out, “She’s been thinking about you for seven years. She came to me begging to take my job to take care of you because she wanted to be with you.”

That still doesn’t help. Stephanie wails. Tim emotionally, and mentally, blanks. He had no idea how to console her.

“Oh, Stephanie,” a voice calls out in relief at his door. 

Tim turns his head to look at Barbara panting. She leans against the doorway to recover herself. 

“You’re not my mom!” Stephanie weeps. 

There’s a flash of pain that crosses Barbara’s face, but it doesn’t last long.

“Stephanie,” she tries, taking a step into Tim’s room, “I’m not trying to replace your mom.”

She takes a few more steps. Stephanie’s face turns red with her scrunched up crying.

“But we’re family now, and I want you to be okay, and I care about you,” Barbara says.

“You can’t care about me,” Stepahnie whimpers, “you don’t even know me.”

“That’s what you think,” Barbara returns, “but I’ve known you for a long time, Stephanie. I’m just sorry I couldn’t have helped you sooner.”

Barbara rests a hand on Stephanie’s arm. She crouches down next to Tim.

Tim does the opposite. He stands up and takes a step back.

“I know things are hard right now, sweetie, but I need you to work with me. I don’t want you to end up in the sanctuary again, not under the circumstances you were in, and I’m willing to do just about whatever it takes to protect you from that.”

Stephanie sniffles. 

“I’m not trying to replace your mom,” Barbara offers again, “but I do want to give you the best life you can possibly have.”

Tim steps out into the hallway, feeling like an intruder in his own room. 

“Hey, man!” Duke greets at the far end, “You getting ready for-?”

Tim shushes him with a finger on his lips. He gestures to his room with his head.

Duke pauses in his steps. “Dude. You’ve got girls in your room?”

Tim rolls his eyes. He strides forward, punches Duke in the shoulder, and then grumbles, “Just let me hang out in your room for an hour.”

Duke raises a brow. “It’s almost curfew.”

“I’m sure Mr. Wayne will forgive me,” Tim snorts.

Duke brightens. “Hey. I have a better idea. Why don’t we just have a sleep-over? You can check out the net I bought the other day to hang over my trash can.”

"I-" Tim begins, ready to say no, but then he looks at Duke’s hopeful eyes.

He falters.

“Yeah, sure,” he puts out weakly. 

Duke whoops, throwing his fist in the air, and then wrapping it around Tim’s shoulders. He guides him to his room with a mouth chattering fifty miles per hour, but Tim’s mind is completely elsewhere.

Because he noticed something important. He didn’t flinch.

Chapter Text

“Dude, have you seen the new hellhound? That thing looks nasty!”

Duke kicks his feet up on the table in the library, sticking a sandwich in his mouth, and taking a big bite out of it. Cass sits next to him - hunched over -fiddling with her phone. Tim sits across from them. He focuses on Damian’s notes typed out on his laptop. It’d been another week since Stephanie’s incident, and Dick had set up several appointments throughout the next week with Damian’s teachers. Selina, on the other hand, had been somewhat of an elusive figure. Dick had informed Tim that he hadn’t been able to get a hold of her, and apparently he’d visited her apartment a few times. She was never home during the times he visited, which was odd, because Dick claimed he knew when she was home. 

“No,” Tim comments, distracted.

“It’s crazy,” Duke says, “it looks like it’s straight out of the illustrations. It’s all frothing out the mouth and-”

Duke takes another bite out of his sandwich. He speaks with his mouth full, and no one bothers to correct the behavior.

“And the eyes. They’re red. Like, blood red. The entire thing. You should have seen how rabid it acted. Mr. Wayne had this weird suit-”

Duke swallows.

“I’ve never seen anything like it, but he was able to wrestle the hound into a kennel.”

“Sounds like you had a good day,” Cass says, quietly, with a small smile.

“Yeah. I guess I did,” Duke agrees. “It’s crazy to think about how so many people get cursed, and how they turn into so many different creatures.”

Duke adopts a mischievous glint in his eyes. He takes his feet off the table. He leans forward, sandwich still in hand, and frees a finger to poke at Tim’s laptop.

Tim tugs the laptop closer to himself without making a word. He didn’t appreciate Duke’s greasy fingers touching the most precious object he possessed.

“I bet you could have that hellhound figured out in just an hour, Tim,” Duke says, referring to Stephanie’s curse reversal, “you were made for this kind of thing.”

“Can’t,” Tim mumbles, chewing on his tongue, “I’m occupied with something else.”

“Huh?” Duke leans back. “Is that why you’ve been staring so hard at your laptop for the past two days?”

Duke stuffs the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. 

“I’m just trying to figure something out,” Tim mumbles mostly to himself, but Duke picks up on it. 

“You doing online college or something?” Duke asks. 

Tim closes his laptop. He sighs, sliding it off the table, and resting it in his lap. It was clear he wouldn’t be able to get anything done with Duke trying to engage him in a conversation. Tim liked to say he was good at multitasking, but the science behind it said otherwise. He was just good at switching his attention between two things fast enough to look like he was focused on both, but it wasn’t all that helpful when someone was trying to get you to think up a response. That required thinking about two things at the same time which simply wasn’t possible. 

"No," Tim says, feeling he shouldn't mention that he'd finished college in high school. 

Duke rests his chin on the ball of the palm. “Then what were you doing?”

Tim closes his eyes momentarily in thought. He opens them when he makes his decision.

“Damian,” he says, “I’ve been trying to figure him out.”

Duke hisses in shock. “Damian? I know you’re something of a cursed whiz, Tim, but don’t you think that’s a little… personal?”

Tim rolls his shoulders. “I was asked to look into him.” He wouldn’t mention who. “I’ve been spending most of my time analyzing his behavior.”

Duke makes a huh sound, glancing at Cass who was still involved in her phone, and then glancing back at Tim.

Silence reigns between the three of them for a moment. Tim’s not sure what to make of it. Finally, after a thoughtful pause, Duke asks, “Can I help?”

Tim manages, stunned, “What?”

“It just seems sad,” Duke says, spanning his hands out wide, “Damian, the youngest son of the Wayne Family, cursed. I never really thought about it until now, but as someone who’s had one of their family members cursed, I figure Mr. Wayne is probably heartbroken.”

“How would you help?” Tim questions, curious, and dazed. 

Duke hums in thought. “I was thinking maybe you’d know. I’m new to this detective thing. You’d basically be my teacher, no, my sensei.”

“This isn’t martial arts,” Tim snorts.

“I could probably figure out how to help,” Duke insists, “like maybe you could bounce ideas off of me. Get your brain pumping. Do you have moral support? Every detective needs moral support. I can be your Watson.”

Tim snorts again. 

“What? Just imagine it,” Duke says. “We could probably buy you one of those Sherlock caps they sell at costume stores, and then we could get me a pair of fake glasses. We’ll be a duo.”

“And Cass,” Duke continues, glancing over at her, “she could be our Irene Adler.”

Cass looks up. She tilts her head.

“We can call ourselves something,” Duke pitches, “we can call ourselves the Curse Breakers or something.”

“No way,” Tim says, “it’d have to be something cooler.”

Duke visibly brightens in excitement. “Okay,” he says, eager, “how about Curse Gang?”

Tim can’t stop himself from laughing. “That’s horrible.”

“So you won’t mind if I tag along?” Duke gets to the point, grinning a toothy smile, and Tim shakes his head fondly.

“Would you have backed down if I said no?” Tim questions.

Duke scratches the back of his head. He leans back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs. “Yeah?” He says, “I wouldn’t want to get in your way. If you told me you didn’t want me around then I’d probably just back off.”

Tim was surprised. He knew Duke was a good person, but he didn’t realize how genuine he was. Not only was he compassionate, but he was considerate of others. Tim wasn’t sure if he could say the same thing about himself. He was certain that even if Dick told him to stay away, that maybe he’d just end up sticking his nose in the whole matter anyway, because he always had a penchant for investigating things that he shouldn’t. 

“You’re fine, Duke,” Tim blurts out, feeling honored to know someone who cared, and then he turns to Cass. “You don’t have to join if you don’t want to.”

Cass tucks her phone in her pocket. She stands up, stretches, and then twists her back for a pop.

“Precursors,” she offers. “That’s what we should be called.”

Tim and Duke both blink.

“Not only can we help people reverse their curses,” Cass says with a glimmer in her eye, slapping a hand down on the table in front of her, “but we can help prevent them, too.”

Duke’s eyes widened. “We could be a whole organization!” He realizes, “We could get our names out there, and try to help people from turning into residents here at the sanctuary!”

Tim stops him. “I’m not sure if we’d have the time for that.”

Duke grins like a madman. “Why? Because of our chores?”

“Yes,” Tim answers.

Duke cackles. “What’s the point of chores if there’s none to do?”

Tim furrows his brows. “We have a lot of chores, Duke. At least I hope the case is the same for you. Otherwise, I have a lot of chores, and it’s not fair that you don’t.”

“No, no,” Duke denies, “that’s not what I’m trying to say here. What I’m trying to say is what if we completely clear the sanctuary out of its residents?”

Tim finally catches on.

“That-” he stumbles, “That’ll take months.”

“Not with The Precursors!” Duke insists. “We have you!”

“I can’t,” Tim says, “not when I’m focusing on Damian.”

“Then we’ll figure out what’s wrong with Damian,” Duke says, “and then we’ll work out the rest! You’ll be our lead guy, and we’ll be the two super cool grunts that’ll do all your dirty work!”

“It’s not dirty-”

“This has me so pumped!” Duke says, jumping out of his chair, and punching a fist out. “We’re going to help so many people!”

Cass laughs softly. Tim runs a hand through his hair. How had a simple lunch break turned into the creation of an entire organization that he’d been volunteered to head? 

“So!”  Duke drops back down in his seat. “Where do we start?”

Tim sits himself up on top of the fence to Damian’s pasture. Cass sits next to him, basking in the breeze that flutters through her hair, and Duke runs around in the pasture laughing his head off. Tim might just be able to claim that Duke had lost his mind, but he wasn’t running for no reason. Damian was chasing after him.

Tim got a kick out of seeing Damian outrun Duke, slide in front of him, and then start up in a chase again when Duke turned the opposite direction. Tim could tell that Damian had a playful personality, at least that’s what his creature communicated about his psyche, and he wondered how that translated to his problem. 

“So,” Tim says, “I’m thinking that Damian might have an issue with his mother.”

Duke was close enough to hear him. Cass was silently listening. Tim continues, “I found evidence suggesting he might’ve not been happy that Mr. Wayne is replacing his mom with his new fiancee, or at least that’s the assumption that I’ve made. I think there’s more that plays into it than just that, but I also think it could’ve been the catalyst for something deeper.”

“Hm,” Cass hums.

“He didn’t spend a lot of time with Mr. Wayne even though he tried hard to get his attention, so I’m thinking that maybe Damian might’ve thought that he was being forgotten. Dick admitted that he didn’t really spend time with Damian until he was at least four.”

“So that’s it?” Duke pants, jogging for Tim, as Damian nips at his pants, “You think that maybe he just needs Bruce to spend time with him?”

Tim opens his mouth.

He closes it.

“Uh,” he starts, wondering why he hadn’t thought of such a thing before, “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, but then again you might be onto something.”

“Does he ever visit him? Mr. Wayne,” Cass asks at his side.

Duke pulls a carrot out of his pocket. He hands it to Damian without looking, and Damian eagerly accepts the treat in trade for Duke’s pants.

“I don’t know,” Tim says again.

“Well, if he doesn’t, maybe he should,” Duke says. 

“Maybe,” Tim mumbles.

Was it really that simple? Did Damian just need to spend time with his father? Surely that couldn’t be it. Tim was certain that there had to be something going on at school, and that Selina had to be involved in some way. Could it be that he was just making assumptions that he didn’t need to make? Was the answer quality time? 

No, that didn’t make sense, because then why would Damian try to run away? Why wouldn’t he try to spend time with people? Sure, he might walk up to someone when he sees them, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was always  looking for an exit.

So maybe having Mr. Wayne spend time with Damian was a puzzle piece they needed to reach a solution, but it probably wasn’t the entire answer.

“I’m going to talk to his teachers this week,” Tim says. Damian finishes his carrot with a gulp, and then he starts sniffing Duke’s back. “I think it’s important to know how he acted in school. It could give us some insight that his family didn’t have when he was at home.”

Duke yelps when Damian nips at his fingers. He jumps.

“Dude!” He complains.

Damian stares up at him innocently. 

Cass reaches out a hand. Damian turns her attention to her, stares for a few seconds, and then trots for her on the fence. He stops in front of her. Cass rubs her hand over his cheek, and then down his snout. His tail flicks in pleasure.

“Well,” Duke sighs, shaking his fingers out in the air, “you’re the boss. Just tell us what to do, and we’ll do it.”

“Maybe you could figure out if Mr. Wayne visits Damian or not,” Tim says, “I’m guessing maybe he doesn’t since Dick is the one who primarily takes care of him.”

“He’s his dad,” Duke mumbles, “why wouldn’t he visit Damian?”

“Because he’s sad,” Cass says, petting her hand down Damian’s face. “It hurts him to see Damian this way, I’d imagine.”

Duke winces.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Shoot. I should have thought about that. It was hard when my mom turned into a harpy. I didn’t want to be around her, but it wasn’t because I didn’t love her. It was just hard seeing her so… so… mindless.”

Tim presses his lips together.

“I know the feeling,” he decides to say, “my nanny was turned into a-”

Tim doesn’t want to say it.

“She was cursed,” he settles. 

“Your nanny?” Duke questions. “Dude. You from a rich family?”

“In a way?” Tim says, shrinking, “Why? Is that a problem?”

Duke stares at him. “Nah, man, you just seem really down to earth. I wouldn’t have thought you were from a wealthy background.”

Tim tries not to break out in a sweat. “Do you think differently of me?”

Do you think I’m a spoiled brat?

Duke takes a step forward, he claps a hand on Tim’s shoulder, “You’re a good guy, Tim, and I haven’t met anyone as dedicated as you. You work at a sanctuary, you help people, so I’m not sure why where you come from would change how I feel about you.”

Tim finds himself relaxing. It was a relief. 

“But yeah,” Duke continues, removing his hand, “you’re good in my book. Don’t you forget that you have Duke’s A+ approval.”

He points his thumb at himself cockily. Cass rolls her eyes. She tells him, “Don’t talk about yourself in the third person. It’s weird.”

Tim cracks a smile. He pulls himself off of the fence, swinging his legs over, and lands outside the pasture.

“We should get going,” he says.

Duke is right behind him. He hops over the fence. 

“Get this; Burritos for dinner,” Duke suggests.

Cass retrieves her hand from Damian, not before giving him a fond pat on the head, and then she joins her friends on the ground.

Damian whines. 

“We’ll be back little man,” Duke insists, “and maybe we’ll even have a way to break your curse by then. You’ll be the first to witness the awesomeness that is the Precursors!”

Damian shifts impatiently in place. He calls for them again. 

Tim felt kind of bad for leaving him, but he couldn’t exactly take Damian with him to the manor.

“Sorry, Damian,” he whispers under his breath.

He’d make up for it by curing him.

Throughout the rest of the week Tim interviews several of Damian’s teachers. He records mostly the same response from each of them. Damian was apparently the quiet kid in class who kept mostly to himself, and at times he would struggle with speaking to others. The only person they’d seen him communicate with was his friend Maps, and Maps never showed any signs of taking advantage of their unlikely friendship. He didn’t suspect anything of her, but Tim was beginning to wonder if she might have left out some vital information.

Tim would figure it out when he leaves one of the appointments he held with Mrs. Kraft, Damian’s math teacher, because before he can take three steps out of her classroom he spots a little girl waiting for them outside in the hallway. 

Because Tim didn’t go alone. Dick had attended every single appointment with him, looking for signs of hope for figuring out Damian’s issue, and in doing so he gave Tim the authority to ask questions on his behalf. Tim’s certain that he wouldn’t have been able to get those appointments otherwise because it would’ve been suspicious that he wasn’t a family member. Dick’s presence helped.

“Maps,” Dick greets when he sees her. 

Maps heads for them with her hands tightly curled around the straps of her backpack. Her knuckles were white with anxiety.

“Um, hey,” she says, ducking her head. She peeks up through shy eyelashes, “Are you here about Damian again?”

Dick adopts a soft tone when he talks to her. Tim thinks that maybe he was finally getting a look at Dick’s big brother side.

“Yes,” Dick replies, “we’ve been talking with a few of his teachers.”

“Oh,” she whispers, eyes darting down the hall, and then back at Dick. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Tim and Dick share a glance.

“Of course,” Dick says.

Maps looks down the hall again. She licks her lips.

“Can we talk somewhere else?”

“Lead the way,” Dick agrees.

Maps turns. She speed-walks for the library on little legs, and Tim has no trouble keeping up with her. They pass a couple of classrooms, all devoid of students because of lunch break, and then they enter the library. Maps leads them to a small table, children sized, and sits down on one of the chairs. It was perfect for her body, but it was comically small for Dick and Tim. Tim’s knees bump into the table’s edge as he tries to sit himself down on one of the very small chairs. When Tim glances over at Dick he notices how absolutely ridiculous the man looks, and then realizes that he, himself, must also look equally silly. 

Maps puts down her purple backpack on the table. She unzips the bag. Tim watches her reach for something. He didn’t know why he suspected it might have something to do with Damian because he ends up being disappointed when she pulls out a juice box. 

“Here,” Dick says, reaching out a hand in offering as they watch Maps struggle to get the straw in, “let me help with that.”

Maps gives him the juice box. Tim finds it interesting that Dick was so soft with Maps. He can only guess how he acted around Damian. 

Dick stabs the straw through the juice box’s top. He hands it back to Maps who immediately draws it up to her lips. She anxiously sucks up all that she can until there’s nothing left.

She slams the juice box on the table. She wipes at her lips.

“I didn’t tell you because I was worried I’d get in trouble,” she blurts out, keeping her head low, “but I heard someone say something mean to Damian.”

Dick interlocks his fingers. He rests his hands in his lap.

“What kind of things?” Tim asks.

Maps wipes her bangs out of her face. 

“During mommy’s day,” she says, “Damian brought a picture of his family. We were supposed to bring a picture of our mommies, and Troy made fun of Damian when he said he didn’t have one.”

She nervously shifts in her chair.

“Troy said he’d hurt my mommy if I told anyone after Damian got cursed, but he said something really not nice to Damian that day. When Damian showed him a picture of his new mommy, Troy told him that she must think he’s dirty, just like his daddy, and that they just pretend to like him.”

Dick’s hands leave his lap to run down his face, and to pull off his chin in stress.

“What do you mean, dirty?” Tim questions, fearing he might already know the answer.

Maps leans forward. She whispers, “He has dirty skin.”

Tim starts feeling his stomach turn.

“He asked me to try to wash it off for him,” Maps says, “but it wouldn’t come off. He started crying. I felt really bad.”

Tim knew Maps probably didn’t know any better, she probably didn’t have a full comprehension of what she was saying, but  Tim couldn’t help but feel sick. And if he was feeling sick, he couldn’t imagine what Dick was feeling, because the man’s face had gotten all twisted like he’d just thrown his face in the grinder.

“Well,” Tim says, “Thank you for telling us, Maps, even though you were scared he might hurt your mother. We’ll make sure that he doesn’t.”

“Really?” Maps asks with relief on her face.

“Really,” Tim promises. “Troy won’t touch your mother, and I'm sure he’s going to have a long conversation with his own.”

Maps brightens. 

“Thank you,” she expresses.

They talk a little more after that. Tim asks her more questions about Damian, but it doesn’t last any longer than five minutes. Dick looked very sick, and Tim didn’t want to keep him around. After Maps dismissed herself Tim left the library, and Dick kept up after him until they reached the hallway.

Tim startles when he hears the shaking of metal. He turns his head to see Dick having slammed sideways into a water fountain. He looked about ready to throw up, and Tim froze in place at the sight. He wasn’t sure what to do, he didn’t know how to handle this situation, but eventually he musters the courage he needed to force himself to act. He backtracks to step next to Dick’s side, and then he rests a hand on his arm.

Dick leans his entire weight on the fountain. He didn’t even seem to care that he was leaning on his elbow on germ-breeding water. Right on the drain.

“Did he think he didn’t belong with us?” Dick ends up choking out after a minute of silence. It’d just been his heavy breathing, Tim’s patience, and the distant chatter of children. “Did he think that he was wrong?”

Dick heaves out a breath. 

“I should’ve talked to him about it,” Dick starts up, “I should have said that it didn’t matter. That he’s important and- damn it- I should have tried to get Bruce to spend time with him, to let him know he was loved, because- oh hell- he must’ve thought we didn’t want him. He must have spent nights in emotional agony thinking about how his dad’s a different skin color, and how it must be the reason he doesn’t want to spend time with him.”

Dick swallows air. “I shouldn’t have let my reservations with Bruce get in the way. I should have talked to him.”

Tim isn’t sure what to say. He’s not certain there’s any words he can offer to comfort Dick’s broken heart.

“I should have been there for him.”

Dick goes quiet again. The water fountain starts spurting water because Dick was leaning against the button, but neither of them could care to comment on it. It might be getting his elbow real wet, but that was the least of Dick’s concerns at the moment. He might even feel like he deserved it. 

“You can be there for him now,” Tim voices. 

Dick looks at him for the first time since Maps had spoken to them.

He averts his gaze quickly. He looks at the shooting water.

“I must look so pathetic,” he mumbles. “I can’t even hold myself together.”

“It’s okay to hurt sometimes,” Tim says. 

“Not if it’ll get you cursed,” Dick croaks. 

“That’s why you don’t obsess over it,” Tim reminds him gently, “It’s well within your right to mourn, but holding onto it obsessively will only deepen your sorrow. That’s why so many get cursed. What you can do now is more important than what happened in the past. Damian needs you, Dick. He needs his big brother.”

Dick picks up his head as if it were a heavy weight. He stares at Tim with hooded eyes.

“Can I hug you?” He pleads.

Tim gulps. He wasn’t much of a touchy person, but Dick looked like he needed it.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

Dick leans off of the water fountain. He crushes Tim in an embrace filled with sorrow, and with the need for comfort. Tim tries to return the favor by raising his arms up around Dick. He wasn’t great at the whole hugging thing, he probably could’ve put more strength into his arms, but Tim’s mind is empty of all thought as he tries to keep Dick together in his embrace. He doesn’t feel younger than him anymore, he feels like a kindred spirit, and suddenly there was no barrier of age. 

“We’re going to fix him,” Dick murmurs, brokenly.

Tim nods on his shoulder.

“We’re going to tell him that he’s loved, I’m going to show him every day, and we’re going to be a family again. The family we should have been from the beginning.”

Tim nods again.

Dick pulls back. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I don’t know why I’m pouring this all out on you, but you have no idea how much I needed that. Thanks, Tim." He pauses before continuing, "I think I can see what my dad sees in you.”

Tim shouldn’t blush in such a situation, but he finds himself getting a tad warmer.

“Okay,” Dick tries to compose himself, “I think it’s about time we leave.”

He starts fidgeting with the keys on the belt loop of his pants. He leaves the water fountain, brushing past Tim, and takes the lead for the parking lot.

Tim follows. Eyes trained on Dick’s wet elbow.

Chapter Text

“Let’s go over what we already know,” Tim mumbles, deep in thought, as Dick rests on a pile of hay. Damian rests his head on Dick’s stomach, snoozing, and Dick stares up at the ceiling of the stall they were in contemplation.

“Okay,” Dick agrees, craning his head to look past Tim into the stables, “but did you need to invite the others?”

Duke, who leans against the stall door, grins. 

“We invited ourselves.”

Cass stands next to him with her phone in her hands. She stares down at the bright screen, scrolling with her thumb, and seemingly entranced with whatever she was looking at. 

Tim didn’t even know how they had found out that they’d be in the stables. He knew that they understood what was going on, that they had some idea of Damian’s curse, but Tim hadn’t actually counted on them involving themselves. Duke said he was just going to be someone Tim could ‘bounce his ideas’ off of. Somehow he had missed the part where Duke would be participating in the ‘case’ himself. 

“Uhuh,” Dick sounds, unamused, as Damian stirs on his stomach.

Dick pets Damian’s head in an attempt to soothe him back into deep sleep, and Damian puffs out an irritated breath through his nose. 

“We wanted to see the masters at work,” Duke says. “Because, let’s be honest here, you’re not exactly a nobody, Mr. Grayson.”

“Call me Dick.”

“Dick,” Duke corrects without giving it a moment’s thought, “You’ve solved a lot of curse cases without any assistance, just like Mr. Wayne, and Tim here is a curse solving prodigy!”

Tim wanted to tell him that he’s only solved two curses in his lifetime, but he felt that it would just pass over Duke’s head. He decides to keep his mouth shut, with his laptop open on his lap, and allows Duke his moment to chatter on. 

“So!” Duke rubs his hands together. “What do we have here?”

Dick turns his head to glance at Tim. Duke lands his attention on him, too, making it clear that it was his time to talk.

“Damian,” Tim starts reading aloud as he summarizes everything he’d written out on his notes, “spent a lot of his time trying to get his father’s attention. At school, he was mostly a quiet kid, but he managed to make a friend named Maps. Maps mentioned that someone named Troy laughed at Damian for not having a mother, even after Damian brought a picture of Mr. Wayne’s fiance in a family photo, and then he claimed that Damian’s skin color separated him from the rest of his family. I imagine that Damian, who was already feeling emotionally vulnerable, connected the dots between his situation and Troy’s statement. He probably started to think that Mr. Wayne wasn’t spending time with him because he was different, and that he just didn’t like him.”

“Which isn’t true,” Dick adds.

“Which isn’t true,” Tim agrees for his benefit, “but that doesn’t change the fact that Damian felt neglected in his home life.”

Duke winces. His bright demeanor fades. Cass stops scrolling on her phone. She stares blankly at the screen. Her eyes were glued on one spot, as if she were thinking, and her fingers twitch around her phone case.

“So, with this information,” Tim mumbles, “we need to figure out why Damian turned into a pegasus.”

Duke rubs a hand over his head.

“If we factor in the detail that he wants to run away, I think we can assume that he doesn’t want to be here,” Tim mentions.

Dick makes a sound in the back of his throat.

“Or maybe he just feels like he doesn’t belong here,” Cass speaks up.

Dick pulls himself up to rest on his elbows. He stares at Cass. 

“What do you mean?” Tim asks.

“He runs away because he feels like he doesn’t belong here,” Cass says again, with a shrug, “It’s simple.”

Duke rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “He probably thinks his skin color means he isn’t supposed to be with his family.”

Dick pales significantly. 

Tim realizes aloud, “Oh.” Because it makes sense. He continues, unsure how to finish this line of thinking, “How do we solve his problem then? How do you teach someone that they do belong with their family?”

Duke shrugs. He removes his hand from his neck. “I guess just spending time with him, having people telling him that they love him, and getting the attention he hasn’t gotten before?”

Tim swallows. “Is it really that simple?”

“It’s not simple to value someone,” Cass interjects. “You have to change. It’s easy to be nice to strangers, they won’t ever get to know you the way your family does, but it’s not easy to treat your family with the love they deserve.”

Tim tilts his head in a nonverbal question. 

Dick adds, with remorse, “You’re right. I was so stuck in my head for the first couple of years after Damian’s birth, so angry at Bruce, that I let it affect my relationship with Damian. I should’ve been a better big brother, I should’ve tried harder to get to know him, but I was just so self-focused that I couldn’t see past myself. I was tormented with thoughts of self-hatred, and jealousy, to the point that I couldn’t even treat the people who I should care about most right. I was more willing to go out of my way to help my friends than to spend time with my family.”

There’s a respectful silence for Dick after he’s finished. Duke rubs his jaw, Tim stares at his laptop screen, and Cass lowers her phone in reflection. 

Dick picks up again, after gathering his thoughts once more, “It’s so easy to treat your family like garbage, to be stuck in your head with utter self loathing, and think they don’t care about you. The self-hatred, the no forgiveness thing, really screws up with how you perceive things.”

It was clear that Dick had put a lot of thought on the topic. Tim wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t the first time he’d had those words in his mind. 

Tim slowly closes his laptop. 

He knew that there was truth to what Cass and Dick were saying, but he didn’t really have a family at all to begin with. Perhaps, in some future moment of time, when he had his own family he could apply their advice. He could prevent his children from inheriting the human fault of hating themselves into a pit of misery, effectively changing their relationships with the people around them in the process, because their brains simply couldn’t let go of the pain. 

That’s why so many people got cursed. Sometimes the pain got to be too much, they’d never learned how to cope with it as children, and they’re forced to figure it out by themselves with no guide. It wasn’t just self-hatred. It was obsessive pessimism, anxiety, depression, and so, so much more. It was all the things that weighed down upon the mind with no way to cope.

That’s why, fundamentally, humans couldn’t be alone. They would inevitably walk a path of self-destruction if they were. 

It’s a terribly embarrassing feeling to be vulnerable, getting help is mortifying, but the other option was to end up in a sanctuary. 

That’s what Tim had learned, anyway, after extensive therapy. (He dreams of what it'd be like to have a family to rely on. Friends. Would things have been different?)

Tim was impressed that Dick hadn’t changed into one of The Cursed. He wondered what kind of coping mechanisms he must have to keep himself from obeying the call. It looked like Cass knew what he was talking about, too, which meant she must have some experience as well. He wondered what exactly she must have gone through to give such an insightful reply.

“Damn,” Duke says. “How does this all relate to a cure?”

“Ultimately,” Tim summarizes, “I think your suggestion was a good one, Duke, but I think what Cass was alluding to is the fact that it can’t just stop after Damian’s cured. The family needs to spend genuine time with him, without making it seem like he’s a burden, and they need to keep the change.”

“Anything to keep this little guy happy,” Dick says. He adjusts himself in his place, mostly because it looked like he was losing blood circulation, and then he quietly curses when Damian begins to rouse.

Damian lifts his head. He takes one groggy look at all of the people around him, plops his head back down, and then snaps it back up in surprise. He stumbles to his hooves in excitement, and the first person he goes to inspect is Tim. Tim internally sighs when Damian starts sniffing his hair, and he tries to dodge Damian’s nipping teeth when he tries to go in for a bite. 

“Looks delicious,” Cass teases.

Duke was on a different page. He says, “Why don’t we set something up? A family picnic or something like that?”

Tim tries to push Damian’s face away from his hair. The pegasus puffs out a breath through his nostrils.

“We can invite the whole family. Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayso- I mean Dick, and-? I think that’s about it, right?” Duke suggests.

“Selina,” Dick supplies.

“And Selina,” Duke adds.

He pauses.

“Who’s Selina?”

Alfred had deposited a large number of letters on Bruce’s desk.

He’d already gone through half of them before taking a break. His break was short-lived, however, because Bruce was somewhat of a workaholic. He had a nasty problem of obsessively focusing on his task until it was finished, and he simply could not rest until it was all accomplished. It was this issue that prevented him from getting enough sleep, and it also had a lot to do with his stress. 

Bruce supposed it originated from his childhood. Bruce remembers being hyper-focused, absolutely obsessed, with creating the sanctuary after he’d commissioned Alfred to build the barn on his property. Bruce presses his lips together at the thought. Just thinking about the barn drains all of his energy. 

He picks up the first letter. He grabs the letter cutter, slices open the envelope, and then retrieves the contents. Once the letter is in his hands Bruce walks over to the window. The curtains had been roped to the side because of Alfred’s insistence, and Bruce finds himself facing the sanctuary as his eyes hit the first line. 

The words don’t register in his mind. His vision ends up floating over the letter, out the window, and at the big red barn. 

It’s been a long time.

He hadn’t visited. He couldn’t bear to.

Do you remember?

Bruce looks back down at the letter.

It was for your own safety.

Bruce tries to concentrate on the first line.

Something happened that day, in the alleyway, and you know what it is.

The paper wrinkles under his fingers.

Alfred had a hard time trying to handle you.

He loosens his grip. The letter from an elementary school, requesting that the sanctuary take place for a field trip, falls to his feet. Bruce leans against the window with his forehead pressed against the glass.

You were the first.

It’d been his fault. 

The sanctuary wouldn’t exist without him. Half of the people that were residents, that took shape as multiple emotionally traumatized creatures, wouldn’t exist either.

He’d been shocked at first when he saw his parents fall, but Bruce would never forget the blinding depression that’d plagued his mind.

He remembers looking down at his hands. Pale.

His teeth, sharp fangs, dug into his tongue. They drew blood.

Full moons had always been the hardest. 

Alfred had to take him out to the barn. He had to ignore Bruce’s gut-twisting screams. It’d taken them both some time, Bruce didn’t really feel anything until Dick came along, but then Bruce realized that whatever had happened to him was reversible. When he had figured out that he needed to solve his emotional issue to reverse the curse, Alfred had helped him, and Bruce had been absolutely delighted to be human again.

That’s when he realized something vital.

The creatures that had started appearing after Bruce’s transformation, the monsters that roamed the street at night, were cursed just like him. They weren’t monsters. They were humans, like he had been, and they were cursed. 

Bruce had felt obligated to take care of them because it was his fault that they became that way. They only started showing up after he’d turned into a creature of the night, and so naturally it had to have somehow originated from him. Bruce isn’t sure how it worked, or how it happened, but he owed it to society to make up for his world-changing mistake. His awful, awful, contribution to one of the world’s major problems. 

A knock breaks him from his thoughts. Bruce turns his head to look over his shoulder just in time to spot his eldest son in the doorway. He’d left the door open, it hadn’t been the smartest idea, but Bruce had thought he wouldn’t have a breakdown in his study for a passerby to see.

Dick looks solemn. Bruce knew that there was a talk to be had.

“Dick,” he greets, “why don’t you sit down?”

Dick takes a couple of steps into his study. He closes the door behind him.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stand,” he says.

Bruce turns to look back out the window. 

“What would you like to talk about, son?” Bruce asks, warmly, feeling he ought to maintain their healing relationship. 

Dick shifts in place. “It’s about Damian,” he says.

Bruce turns from the window completely. He adopts a pained expression, feeling it in his heart, and then he heads for his desk chair. He knew he would have to sit down if he didn’t want to have a stressed induced anxiety attack. This topic wasn’t for the faint of heart, and Bruce’s heart always felt faint when they spoke about his youngest.

“What is it?” Bruce questions, mentally preparing himself.

Dick considers Bruce. 

“His curse,” Dick says, “we think we know how to cure it.”

It takes a moment for Bruce to register Dick’s words. His mind draws a blank as Dick’s words repeat over and over in his ears. 

He had just sat down, but all of a sudden he needed to move. He shoots up from his chair.

“What?"

“I think we figured it out,” Dick says. “I asked Tim for help and we went through his room-”

Bruce didn’t even know where to begin with that.

“Then we talked to some of his teachers at school. Damian’s friend came up to us. Told us some interesting things we hadn’t heard about before.”

“Like?” Bruce prompts.

Dick looks uncomfortable.

“Like how she tried to wash his so-called ‘dirty’ skin off.”

Bruce’s heart freezes.

“Apparently someone pointed out to Damian that he didn’t look like any of us, skin color wise, and then he took it to heart. He must have thought that he wasn’t supposed to be in our family.”

It shatters.

Bruce stumbles forward into his desk. He leans his weight on both of his hands on the surface.

“He thought you hated him.”

Bruce feels his breath leave him. “That’s not true.”

Dick’s face softens. “I know. It’s just, look, think about it through his perspective. He tried so hard to get your attention and you just brushed him off saying, ‘later’ all the time.”

Bruce had thought he lost his heart, but apparently there were enough pieces left to pierce his soul with guilt. He’d considered it before, when thinking over Damian’s situation, but he hadn’t wanted to believe that he’d been involved in Damian’s emotional issues. Bruce did spend time with Damian, many times throughout his childhood, but there’d been too many times where he’d waved him off in order to finish what he was working on.

“Look, Bruce,” Dick says, calm, and hopeful, “I know that we haven’t been as good as we should have been, as important figures in Damian’s life, but we can change that for the better. Damian needs us. He needs his family. He needs Selina. He needs to know that we care about him. That means we need to try harder at this whole family thing.”

Bruce falls back in his chair. He runs a hand over his forehead. 

Was Dick telling him he’d have to prioritize Damian, his family, over his work?

It makes sense. He should have done it in the first place, but the more time he spent away from the sanctuary, the longer people stayed cursed. How was he supposed to balance these issues? It was the world, and Gotham, versus being a father. Bruce’s sanctuary was one of only a few. The rest of the world just deported their problem creatures to other countries without caring for the consequences. 

Dick’s calm demeanor fades the longer Bruce takes time to think. Frustration makes way on his face the longer he anticipates Bruce’s reply.

“Don’t tell me you have to actually think about this, Bruce! It’s a no-brainer! You need to spend time with your son!”

Bruce spits out, “I know!”

Dick hands curl up into fists. “Then act like you know!”

Bruce looks away from him, gritting his teeth, “What am I supposed to do, Dick? I can help him right now, but what if I can’t keep up with it in the future? What will I do then?”

“You try!” Dick shouts, “You just try, damn it! Would you rather Damian wait several years, stuck as a pegasus, until his childhood runs away!? Have you seen Stephanie?”

Yes. He had. 

“Damian just needs to know that he belongs! He just needs his dad! You don’t have to give up your stupid life for it! You just need to care about him!”

“I do,” Bruce’s voice falls.

“Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” Dick growls out. 

And Bruce marvels at it.

Because, even though he’d been frustrated with his own inability to trust himself to be a good dad, Dick was passionate about his little brother. He’d taken care of him even when Bruce had locked himself up in his room for mourning. In fact, not only had Dick taken care of Damian, but he’d picked up Bruce’s slack around the entire sanctuary. He’d done them both despite taking a mental toll on his health, because he’d cared enough about it. 

Bruce feels stricken. 

Because, oh.

He wasn’t alone.

“Bruce,” Dick starts up again, forcing his voice into a calm despite showing a clear struggle with it. “Dad,” he tries again, voice adopting an emotional wobble, “Please. I know what you’re capable of, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and you’re one of the best men I’ve ever known. You’re selfless, you have a dumb bleeding heart, and you go out of your way to help people. Just - please - could you pick your family first this one time?”

Bruce feels his eyes blur.

He looks at Dick. He sees the boy in the circus. He sees the first time they stood for a photo, with his hand on Dick’s shoulder, smiling in front of his school. He sees the past, present, and future. He sees a family who, despite their many trials, stuck together. He sees himself holding onto Dick’s shoulder with one hand, and with his other gripped tight around Damian’s. 

“Always,” Bruce croaks.

He wipes his eyes.

“What do we need to do?”

Tim knows he hadn’t been invited to the picnic, but one week later, he finds himself in Damian’s pasture with his ankle pressed against a basket full of food. 

Duke had dragged him to the picnic after they’d both finished with their morning chores, and Cass had already been there talking to a woman with hair just as short as hers. He takes one good, long, look at her before he realizes that she’s the famous Selina Kyle. He remembers looking at her in the photo, and it was surreal to see her in person. He didn’t know how they’d found her when, apparently, Dick couldn’t contact her for a whole week. 

Dick answers his question by showing up at Tim’s side, startling him when he speaks up, “She was in Italy.”

Tim tries to recover himself, make it look like Dick didn’t bother him that bad, but then he glances over to Damian who sticks himself at the pasture’s closed gate. He follows Damian’s eyes. Damian was giving Selina a hard, hard, stare.

“Where’s Mr. Wayne?” Duke asks.

Tim turns to look over at him standing on his other side, and he blinks when he spots the sandwich in Duke’s hand.

“Duke,” Tim starts, “are you eating?”

Duke swallows a bite. “Yeah?”

“This is a family picnic.”

Dick slaps a hand on Tim’s shoulder. 

“Bah,” he dismisses, “don’t worry about it. He can eat what he likes. But, regardless, I think Bruce said he’d be out in a few. It’ll take him a- um- moment- before he’s ready to face Damian.”

“Understandable,” Duke says after taking another bite, speaking with his mouth full, and Tim tries not to look in the direction of his lips while he does it. He didn’t want to see the mush of food. 

Selina raises a hand in the air. “Hey, you three!” She calls out. “Are you just going to stand around? Come over here!”

Duke and Tim exchange glances. Dick doesn’t hesitate. He slaps his hands together, rubs them, bends over to grab the basket near Tim’s ankle, and then lugs it over to Selina’s position. 

Tim follows after him with some reluctance. He didn’t really know Selina, and he didn’t want to make a bad impression. She’d be the future Mrs. Wayne, after all, which meant she’d probably have a large influence over Mr. Wayne’s opinion over him. Needless to say, Tim wanted to make a good first impression, but he was nervous he’d screw it up.

Duke ends up passing him up as he jogs over to the large picnic blanket. It wasn’t big enough to fit everyone on it, but no one really seemed to care too much. Selina was halfway sitting on the grass, taking a very ladylike pose to preserve her modesty, tugging at the end of her black skirt to cover her knees. Cass was sprawled out on the grass, stretching her hands above her head, threading blades in between her fingers. 

Dick ends up settling next to Cass. Duke takes his spot on Cass’ opposite side.

Tim gives Selina a nervous smile as he settles a few inches away from her. She returns his smile with a knowing one, like she knew she made him uncomfortable, but Tim didn’t want to look too deep into it. 

“You must be Tim,” she says.

“Yeah,” is his short reply.

Her smile widens.

“Well, well, well,” she remarks, “Bruce just hires all the cuties. I just want to pull your cheek!”

Tim’s brows raise into his hairline.

“Selina. Don’t scare away our employees,” Dick snorts. 

“Oh, yes, I’m the scary one,” Selina throws her head back and laughs, “Let’s not count the ginormous creatures you see in the sanctuary every single day. I saw the giant squid. I must say, I am impressed with the tank!”

“Yeah,” Dick puffs, “Bruce really outdid himself with that one.”

“Not all of The Cursed are scary,” Duke defends.

“Of course not,” Selina agrees. “Just look at Damian.”

They all turn their heads except for Cass who stares up at the blue sky. Damian still stands at the gate except he wasn’t looking their way anymore. He was staring at an approaching figure, giving the person a dead concentrated stare.

Tim narrows his eyes on Damian instead of paying any attention to Mr. Wayne because Damian’s behavior was overall antsy. He was sticking far away from the group, despite having a history of indulging in foal-like curiosities, and now he was backing along the fence line the closer Mr. Wayne got. 

Tim can’t help but wonder how this was going to work out when Damian seemed intent on not being anywhere close to them.

Bruce doesn’t go straight for the gate. Tim watches in open wonder as the man follows Damian along the fence. Damian’s pace wasn’t too fast for him to keep up with, but it was certainly interesting to watch.

“I hope this doesn’t turn into a disaster,” Dick groans.

“Hey, hey,” Selina coos, “just give your old man a chance.”

Tim sees Mr. Wayne’s mouth move. He can’t quite hear him, not at the increased distance he was making, but he could read his lips.

Damian.

Damian falters long enough for Bruce to catch up with him. The man digs in his pocket to pull out a sugar cube, and he climbs up on the fence to offer it down to Damian.

Damian inspects it warily. 

Tim watches for a painful amount of time for anything to happen between the two of them. He distantly registers Dick murmuring under his breath, he vaguely hears Duke munching on his sandwich, and finally after a couple of more minutes movement happens. 

He’s not sure how Mr. Wayne manages to keep his hand held out for so long, but his patience finally wins as Damian hesitantly sniffs at his hand. Damian looks up at his father, down at his palm, and then slowly accepts his gift. 

Mr. Wayne continues to holdsout his hand even without the sugar cube. Damian finishes munching on his treat before reaching out again, this time less reluctant, and Tim watches his hopeful father make a hitch in breath.

Mr. Wayne cautiously moves his hand to run it down Damian’s snout.

Damian stares at him while he does it. Mr. Wayne takes his time getting used to touching Damian’s face before adopting more confidence. 

“He’s doing so good,” Selina praises.

Tim finally removes his eyes to realize that everyone had been watching, over the past fifteen minutes, too. 

Selina looked proud. Duke seemed entertained. Cass might be sleeping. And Dick? Dick had glassy eyes.

Mr. Wayne hops the fence. Damian startles but his father holds his hands out in peace, hushing him, and apologizing.

“Well!” Selina’s loud voice causes Tim to jolt. “Let’s eat!”

“Yeah!” Duke cheers. The sandwich was missing from his hand. He’d eaten it all. 

Selina pulls the basket for her. She starts pulling out the bread, meat, cheese, vegetables, and a variety of sauces to cater to everyone’s tastes. 

Tim’s not sure what to think about the hot sauce. He just decides it’s better to pretend it doesn’t exist. 

“Here you are, cutie pie,” Selina says, pushing a loaf of bread in his hand, sliced in the wrapping. “Why don’t you serve yourself? You’re a growing boy! You need to eat!”

Tim feels his cheeks warm.

“And you!” Selina tuts at Duke, “I can see you’re a bit of a food junkie, just like me. You can’t hide it.” She hovers two fingers over her eyes before pointing it in Duke’s direction. “People like us? We have a way of spotting each other out.”

Duke grabs hold of the other loaf she’d laid out on the blanket. He nods, eagerly, “Yeah! You’re right! I just had this feeling when I first saw you. It’s like we were connected.”

“You sure it’s just not a crush?” Dick jokes, punching Duke playfully on the shoulder.

Duke takes it in stride. “Nah, man, don’t disrespect me like that. I’m a gentleman.”

“I can tell,” Selina says, winking his way, and Duke smiles big. 

Selina starts making her own sandwich after Duke pulls out two pieces of bread. She hums as she cracks open the lettuce. Once she’s finished applying the lettuce to her sandwich, she adds the rest of her toppings, and then passes it to Dick.

Tim quickly learns that the sandwich wasn’t meant for Selina because Dick hovers it over Cass who reaches out a hand without even looking. She had her eyes closed, but somehow she had just sensed that Dick had a sandwich for her. 

Cass pulls herself up once it’s in her hands. She tiredly takes a bite into it, giving Selina a delighted sound, and whispers a quiet thank you after she swallows.

“Can’t let you go hungry, sweetheart,” Selina returns. 

Tim tries making his own sandwich, but it fumbles in his hands when he feels a familiar chomp on his hair. 

Mr. Wayne settles on his left. Tim feels terrified, for a moment, because whilst he wanted Damian to stop he didn’t want to scold him in front of his father. 

Fortunately, Mr. Wayne glances Tim’s way, and then he says, “Damian. You know better.”

Damian’s stops munching on him immediately. 

Tim didn’t know pegasi could act sheepish, but Damian nuzzles his cheek to apologize. Tim tries to keep his head in place as Damian nudges him. It was amazing that he'd instantly changed his behavior on Mr. Wayne’s command. 

“It’s fine,” Tim says. 

Damian nudges him a couple of more times, rubbing his nose against his cheek, before slinking away to join Dick. 

Tim watches as he cuts through the middle, sniffing at the basket, and nearly stepping on the bread that Selina saves from his clumsy hooves. Dick grabs at the lettuce wordlessly, and he rips off a leaf to hold it out in offering. 

Damian looks up at the offering, and happily closes the rest of the distance between them to eat his snack.

“We should do this more often,” Selina says.

“Yes,” Mr. Wayne agrees.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Duke adds.

Tim feels exasperated. Duke had just included himself in the Wayne family without even trying. Tim’s not even sure if he’s aware of it. He just naturally pushed himself into their group without any retaliation. And the Waynes? They just seemed amused. They hadn't taken offense to Duke's eating without permission, and they didn't care that he'd automatically added himself into the next 'family' picnic.

Tim shakes his head.

The picnic is an overall success. Tim tries not to make a fool out of himself when he’s talking to Mr. Wayne, and he tries his best to respect Selina’s questions with thoughtful answers. It was a little stressful keeping himself on guard, but over time he found himself relaxing as the chatter went on. It was a strange thing to say, but Tim felt different with the Waynes. He wasn’t nearly as frightened as he could be, and he’d startled himself several times when he joined in their laughter. It felt surreal. He can’t remember a time when he’s been with so many people, concentrated in one spot, enjoying himself. 

“What’s your family like, Tim?” Selina asks one hour in. 

Tim shrugs. “Fine, I guess. My mom and dad work overseas. They spend a lot of time traveling.”

“Oh!” Selina says, “How wonderful! Did they bring you along?”

Tim shakes his head. “No. I spent most of my time with my nanny.”

“Huh,” Selina sounds, “What was that like? Did you know your parents very well?”

“Well enough,” Tim thinks aloud, “I didn’t really miss them too much. You can’t miss what you don’t really have.”

And then he realizes his mistake. 

He’d gotten too comfortable.

Everyone goes quiet, and Mr. Wayne goes even quieter if that were even possible with his stoic persona, and Tim feels like a giant buffoon. He feels dread sink into his stomach, like it was an anchor, except it never hits the bottom.

“We can’t have that,” Selina announces, once things got a little too awkward, “You’re welcome in our family, Tim. You might as well be, with all you’ve done for the sanctuary, and for Damian.”

Tim physically startles.

“You don’t even know me-”

“I know you,” Dick blurts out. “I mean, not as well as I could, but, um, ah, well, crap. I can’t speak. You know what I mean.”

“You’d be my brother,” Cass adds in, reverently. “I don’t think I’d mind.”

Tim would have to think about that statement at a later date.

“Yeah! And mine, too!” Duke joins, which is ridiculous, but Tim can’t bother to correct him. 

Tim side glances at Mr. Wayne who watches Damian try to snoop at his pocket. Tim feels caught when they make eye contact because Tim shouldn’t be seeking his reaction. He shouldn’t be hoping he’d feel the same way as the rest of his family. It was weird. They didn’t really know him, he didn’t really know them, and who was he to randomly add himself to the family roster of a mix of people?

And sure, he might really want to be a part of a family, but that didn’t mean adopting himself into one after just a month of working for them . That was crazy

“I’m sure Damian would love you,” Selina adds, warmly, and Tim’s heart is beating too fast for him to keep up with. 

He’s not sure how to respond. There’s multiple pairs of eyes on him, and Tim feels cornered in his own uncertainty.

Then Damian starts to glow.

It’s a welcome, shocking, interruption. Tim’s relieved and stunned all at the same time.  

Mr. Wayne stands up. Dick follows, wide-eyed, and astounded. Tim’s not sure why Damian is changing right now, he can’t have possibly had enough time to feel like he belonged, and yet he was morphing in front of their eyes anyway. His neck shortens into the fleshy neck of a human, his snout flattens into his face, but his wings get bigger to compensate for a human form. They break his band.

Selina scrambles off of the picnic blanket. Tim and Duke do, too, as the woman starts tugging it off the grass to throw it over Damian.

Damian stumbles to his knees. Selina wraps him, wings, and all. 

He looks over his shoulder to see Selina staring at him with eyes glittering with tears, and then he looks upward to see his father standing over him.

“Daddy?”

Tim didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t for Mr. Wayne to choke out an emotional sob.

Mr. Wayne falls to his knees, and tugs his baby into his arms.

Dick covers his mouth with a hand. He was physically restraining himself from making a loud, gross, sob. That didn’t mean he wasn’t crying, though, because Tim could still hear the strangled noises coming from his throat.

“Dude. What’s happening?” Duke asks.

Tim tries to wrack his brain. He remembers Stephanie. The adoption papers.

“The curse is giving them a chance.”

Tim felt like an intruder on the emotional reunion. 

Damian's father had hugged him with all his might, and Selina had quickly replaced him to rain kisses on Damian’s confused features. Tim, Duke, and Cass stood aside as passive observers. Dazed. Confused. Amazed.

Dick had sobbed into Damian’s hair once it was his turn, bringing him in for a tight embrace, and kissing his crown with unrestrained joy. Tim had watched them haul Damian off to the manor to check him over, but the poor kid couldn’t walk without stumbling. Dick had resorted to lifting him up to carry him, and Damian had been so shocked that he’d stared up at Dick’s face as if he were an alien in human disguise. 

Tim felt happy for Damian. He felt happy for his family, too, and he hoped that things turned out alright.

But chores still had to be done around the sanctuary. So, after Cass insisted she could clean up the mess they left behind, Duke and Tim went off to the stables in a joint effort to clean up.

And that’d been all that they planned to do at the stables.

Tim hadn’t expected to hear fists desperately knocking on Jason’s steel door. He’d been content just sweeping up dust.

He jumped when he heard a very human voice cry out, “Get me out of here!” The frightened look he shared with Duke was unreal. They both were absolutely terrified, Tim could see it in Duke’s face, and he could feel it in himself. 

In the end, it’s Duke who braves looking in the window, and when he’s done he takes a step back like someone had just stabbed him in the abdomen. 

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, worriedly.

Duke trembles. “Jason - he - he’s human.”

Chapter Text

Tim can’t stop staring at Jason.

He wasn’t exactly entirely human as Duke had suggested. He was certainly humanoid, but his appearance had adopted fantastical features. It was much like Stephanie and Damian. Jason was aware of himself, he had control over his faculties, but there was something missing in his overall cure. Regardless, Jason was quite the intimidating figure, with red scales lined down the sides of his limbs. His neck was covered in scales, too, shaped in a downward triangle. He had two horns rooted on the side of his head, curling outwards towards his eyes, replacing his ears. He had bright red hair, Tim’s not sure if it’s because of his curse, but there was an interesting white streak on his bangs.

“Could you stop staring at me? It’s freaking me out,” Jason mumbles as he reclines in one of the library sofas. He had a cup of orange juice in his hand. He didn’t seem at all stressed.

Sure, he’d been freaking out earlier in the stables, but now he was comfortably clothed in some of Duke’s closet scraps. He didn’t look at all uncomfortable. He held himself with a confidence that Tim envied. It was clear that Jason didn’t care about what anyone thought about him, and that he’d been through enough crap in his life.

“Sorry,” Tim says, looking away.

He spots Bruce standing in the doorway. Frozen. Kate Kane stands behind him with her arms crossed. 

Jason spots him, too. He holds up his cup of orange juice in greeting, tipping it Bruce’s way, and says, “Sup, B.”

Bruce looks over at Tim. There was a question in his eyes.

Tim shakes his head. No. He didn’t have anything to do with this. He was curious as to what had happened in Jason’s life to have had him revert this much.

Bruce breaks forward from the doorway. He strides for Jason who looks up at him seemingly unaffected. Jason would not keep the expression after Bruce tears the cup out of his hand. 

Jason springs forward. “Hey!” He growls out. “What’s the big deal, old man? I was drinking tha-”

He doesn’t get another word in when Bruce tugs him off the couch. He pulls Jason into a bone-crushing hug. Tim can almost hear his bones crack.

Jason stands frozen in Bruce’s arms. His arms were glued to his sides in the impersonation of a stiff wooden pole. His eyes were big and round. While Bruce hugged him, Jason looked completely stunned, like he’d never been hugged in his entire life.

Bruce withdraws. His hands move to Jason’s arms.

“Jason,” he breathes out, “it’s so good to see you.”

Jason stares at him. 

“Um,” he stumbles, obviously confused, “yeah. Sure. It’s good to see you, too, even though I’m pretty sure we saw each other just three days ago?”

Bruce’s features fall. 

“About that,” he says, retrieving his hands, “there’s a lot to catch you up on. What do you remember?”

“Remember? You tell me Bruce because I’m drawing a blank here. I can’t remember anything.”

“What?”

Jason claps his hands together. He starts to pace back and forth.

“I remember just a couple of things. I remember my name, I remember my family, and then there’s you. I don’t really remember anything else.”

Jason stops.

“And then I remember waking up in the stall with-”

He stretches out his arms. He shows off his scales.

“-these things-”

He settles his arms. He looks up at Bruce.

“I’m cursed, aren’t I?”

Bruce gives him a grim nod. 

“This sucks,” Jason whines as he bounces a ball off the wall. Tim flinches everytime it happens, because the wall was in an ancient manor passed down through the generations of the Wayne Family, and it didn’t help that it was in his room out of all places.

It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Not really. Tim’s not sure what was up with people meeting up in his room, but it seemed to be a good meeting place for those who’d been cursed. 

“I lost like, what, five years of my life? I was fifteen. Now I’m twenty?” Jason spits. “What the hell? This is screwed!”

He throws the ball. Hard.

Tim watches it collide with the wall, and then bounce violently off. 

“And, hell, I know I’m a drop out, but seriously man. I’ve got nothing going for me. Nothing.”

Tim opens his mouth, nervously, “Um. Well. If you wanted, since you seem to have a good relationship with Mr. Wayne, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hiring you.”

Jason snorts. “That’s if I don’t end up in that stall again. Have you seen that thing? It’s full of gross goo and-”

“I’ve seen it.”

Tim can hardly forget the sight. 

Jason throws the ball again. 

“Plus, what am I supposed to do, with having zero memory? How am I supposed to even figure out the root of my problem?”

Tim really wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. The Cursed, he felt, were easier to deal with when they couldn’t speak. Because even if Stephane frightened him, and Jason, too, their emotions were ten times more complex in human form than anything else. 

“I’m guessing we can start with your mom,” Tim says, leaning back in his desk chair, because Jason was sitting on his mattress like he owned it. “She’ll probably want to know that you’re okay.”

Jason snorts again. “I doubt she’d care,” he grumbles. “She was never sober enough to even realize she’d given birth to me.”

And that was a loaded sentence Tim didn’t know how to dissect.

“She might have something to do with your curse,” Tim says.

Because that sounded like a perfect reason to turn into an angry, sick, fire-breathing dragon. 

“Or maybe it’s just because I thought I was freaking hideous because holy crap what the hell am I? What the frick is up with these scales, huh?”

Jason stops bouncing the ball. He freezes.

Tim shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” he says, “I think they’re pretty cool.”

“Yeah? Well, if you think they’re that cool, why don’t you have ‘em?” Jason grunts. He starts scratching at the scales on his neck. He attempts to pry them off, and Tim is terrified to see them move at his effort to pull them out.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Tim says, slowly standing up from his chair. 

His words don’t stop Jason from pulling a scale off. 

Tim feels nauseous when he sees Jason rip the scale off. He feels even more sick when green ooze starts leaking through Jason’s fingertips. Jason makes a panic when he eyes his fingers, and then he looks up at Tim cluelessly like he’d know what to do. 

Tim runs for the hallway. He grabs his waste basket on the way out just in case he needs to puke, and then he runs for the bathroom to grab a towel. He had no idea what else would be needed to take care of Jason’s problem. 

He almost collides into a broad chest on the way there. The only reason he doesn’t is because he stops himself in time. 

“Woah! What’s wrong, Tim?” Dick asks.

Tim distantly registers that he wasn’t only looking at Dick, but also at a tiny face staring at him over Dick’s shoulder. Dick had his hands hooked underneath Damian’s knees, and Damian’s hands were holding onto his shoulders.

“Towel. Jason. Room,” is all Tim manages to squeeze out before he slips into the bathroom. 

He dives for the cupboards underneath the sink. He then pulls out the towels, carrying as much as he can manage whilst balancing the waste basket, but he curses when he drops them all on the ground. Tim rushes as he gathers up the bundle of towels, having unfolded because of his clumsy hands, and then he heads out into the hallway again. 

He didn’t know where Dick had disappeared to, but he wasn’t surprised to see him standing in his room.

Tim gets back just in time to hear Dick say, in a strained voice, “Jason?”

Tim couldn’t see his face, but he could see Damian’s wings. He wondered why Jason didn’t have his own wings.

Tim brushes past Dick to press a towel against Jason’s neck. Jason makes a disgusted noise as the ooze slips down his shirt, and Tim tries his best to keep the goo contained. The rest of the towels drop from his hands, and the wastebasket falls, too, as he focuses on keeping the mess to Jason’s neck. 

“That’s gross, ” Damian voices from Dick’s back.

Tim didn’t even know why he was riding piggy-back on Dick, but he seemed to be content there. 

“Dickie,” Jason greets with a grunt, “you look like hell. What happened to you? Did they throw your face into a meat grinder?”

“Holy crap,” Dick manages.

Jason nudges Tim away from himself. He takes the towel from him to tend to his own neck.

He gives Tim a hard look.

“Sorry, kid, I know you wanted to have my scales, but it looks like you’re not going to get them anytime soon.”

“Jason?” Dick says again with a croak.

“Yes. We’ve established this,” Jason groans. 

Dick lowers himself down. Damian hops off of his back without a word, and Dick then dives for Jason. Tim jumps out of the way as Dick crashes into him. Jason yelps as he ends up backwards on the mattress.

“You’re heavy, damn it!” Jason cries.

“Jason- what- how long?”

Jason pushes Dick off of him with gritted teeth. He keeps the towel on his neck. 

“Five years? Give or take,” Jason grunts. He pulls himself up. “Haven’t you heard? I was a dragon. Wicked, right?”

“Heard? Jason. I fed you every day,” Dick says.

Jason gives him a glance.

“Weird,” he mumbles.

“How long have you been like this?” Dick tries again.

Jason shrugs. “Two days?”

Tim feels floored at the observation. Had it only been two days? It felt like an entire lifetime. How had they transitioned to Jason sitting down with Bruce to him gushing out green ooze in his room in such a short time? How hadn’t the news reached Dick’s ears until now?

“You’re like me,” Damian realizes aloud.

Jason glances over at Damian. He eyes his wings.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem all gruff anymore, and his expression softened.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he whispers.

Damian stares at him unabashedly. Jason stares back. 

“Cool wings,” Jason comments after a moment of examination between the both of them. 

Damian’s wings twitch. “Cool scales,” he returns. 

Jason smiles wryly. “Yeah. I know. That kid over there-?” He gestures over to Tim with the tilt of his head, “He wanted one of them. That’s how cool they are. Everyone wants a piece of them.”

Tim deadpans.

“You’ve never met Damian before, have you?” Dick voices in revelation. 

“Not that I’m aware of, no, but I know who he is.”

Damian fiddles with his fingers. “I don’t know who you are.”

Jason grunts. He adjusts the towel. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“Are you my big brother?” Damian blurts out. 

Jason barks out a laugh. “Nah.” He pats Dick’s shoulder. “You only got one of those.”

“Jason-”

“You don’t need someone like me.”

Dick frowns.

Which was interesting because it looked like there was something between the two of them relating to the topic of family. What did that mean? 

Damian hums. He rocks on his heels.

Before anything else can happen, they all hear a knock on the doorframe, and each person turns to investigate the noise.

Stephanie stands at the door, withdrawn, and shy. 

“Hey,” she waves awkwardly.

Tim had forgotten he’d called her over.

“You were a griffin?”

Tim had invited Stephanie over, as a fellow half-cured individual, to connect her to Jason. He felt that two people in the same boat could be an emotional support to each other, and Jason seemed too interested in meeting someone like him to pass up the opportunity. They were all sitting in various places in his room now. Damian looked dead on the floor. He was stretched out in the middle with his wings spanned out, staring up at the ceiling, looking bored out of his mind. Stephanie sat on the mattress next to Jason. Dick was leaning against the wall, and Tim was sitting in his desk chair again. 

“Yeah,” Stephanie laughs sheepishly. She rubs the back of her neck, drawing up her shoulders, “for about seven years.”

“Oh,” Jason says. “Damn.”

“Yeah. I was like, um, thirteen when I got cursed?”

Jason’s face twists.

“But, uh, Tim helped me. And, the last time I was here, I was a huge mess. Sorry about that, Tim.”

Tim says, without thinking, “Don’t worry about it.”

It may have stressed him out in the moment, but he was over it now. 

“And then,” she continues, “I got adopted. It helped me revert to this state.”

Jason looks her over.

“Ah,” he sounds. 

“The same thing happened to Damian,” Tim speaks up. “He reverted this way after a family picnic which goes to show that something must have happened in your life to have turned you into what you are now.”

Jason looks at Tim. 

“I’m thinking that something must have happened to you outside of the sanctuary, in your life, I mean.”

Jason lowers his gaze to the ground.

“We could probably figure out what’s wrong with you if-”

Jason interrupts him, “Nah.”

Tim shuts his mouth. Each pair of eyes, except for Damian’s, which were closed, give him their attention. 

“Jason?” Dick questions.

Jason lowers the towel from his neck.

“I know I was complaining earlier about having a life,” he says, giving Tim an acknowledging nod, “but let’s get real. I’d be better off as one of The Cursed.”

“You can’t mean that,” Dick says, pushing himself off of the wall.

“I’m not joking around, Dick,” Jason says, “I’d be better off as a bumbling dragon. Least I’d have somewhat of a home.”

Stephanie stays silent. Tim does, too, and Dick continues, “You absolutely would not be better off as a dragon. It was hard just trying to feed you.”

“But you managed it,” Jason points out, “otherwise I wouldn’t be alive.”

“I ‘managed’ it because I love you, Jason,” Dick says.

Jason goes quiet at that admission. Real, real, quiet.

“Don’t tell me you’d be better off as a dragon, Jay, because you have no idea how much we missed you.”

Jason laughs coldly. “I was in the sanctuary. Don’t kid yourself. What’s there to miss?”

Dick frowns. “Jason-”

“Cut!” Jason announces, holding his arms out like a director’s clapperboard, and making the motion to stop the scene. “Don’t want to talk anymore.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Ah! No speaking!”

“Jason-”

“I’m leaving.”

Jason gets up from the mattress. Dick side steps to get in his way, but Jason gets real close to him after avoiding Damian on the middle of the floor.

“Get out of my way,” he snarls in Dick’s face.

Dick stares up at him, surprised that Jason was taller than him, but he keeps his ground. He folds his arms across his chest. They stare at each other. Hard.

Stephanie glances over at Tim. He offers her a nervous smile.

This wasn’t how he thought things would happen.

“Jason,” Dick tried one last time, “please don’t do this. Please, just talk to me.”

“Not in the mood.”

They stubbornly continue the staring contest. Damian sits up. 

Tim watches for a tense minute before Dick exhales. His shoulders slump. He steps to the side.

Jason stomps out. 

There’s a thick atmosphere left behind. No one speaks. Not until Damian yawns, and starts rubbing at his eyes.

Dick kicks up into action. He holds out a hand for Damian to grab.

“Let's take you to bed, kiddo,” he says.

Damian grabs his hand. He allows Dick to help him get off the floor. He keeps his hand in Dick’s as they head for the doorway, but Dick doesn’t exit out into the hall immediately. He turns to look over at Tim.

“Hey. I know I ask a lot of you but, do you think that maybe you could figure out what’s going on with Jason? I don’t think he’ll talk to me.”

Tim blinks. “What makes you think he’ll talk to me? I think Damian would have an easier time. Looks like he has a soft spot for kids.”

Dick smiles weakly. “Yeah. He does. He grew up on the streets. He had to look out for the others.”

Interesting.

“But, I don’t know, you have a history of getting through to people.”

“I don’t recall this at all.”

“You convinced me that you could help Damian. It worked. You helped Stephanie without any help. You’re a natural detective, Tim. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if anyone can figure out what’s going on with Jason, it’s you.”

Tim feels warm at the confession. 

“I’ll consider it,” he says.

But he already knows the answer.

Chapter Text

“Hi.”

Tim feels like a frozen statue. It was eleven o’clock at night, and in the archway of the kitchen stood Mr. Wayne’s youngest son. Tim had been leaning against the island in the middle, the edge tucking into his stomach, while drinking a hot cup of coffee. He really shouldn’t be drinking caffeine this late at night, but he’d had a fit of insomnia anyway. So. Yeah. It didn’t make much sense, but in Tim’s sleep-deprived mind it was the perfect coping mechanism. It made him feel warm inside, and the smell of the coffee beans was refreshing. 

Tim swallows. “Hi.”

Damian shuffles in place with a teddy bear hanging from one of his hands, dragging on the floor, and his wings were pressing firmly against his back so as to not bump into anything. 

“Can you make me a hot cocoa?”

Tim blinks at the strange request.

“How about we get you a glass of milk instead?” He reasons because, logically, wouldn’t sugar this late at night be the worst thing a kid could have?

Tim wasn’t even going to ask why the six year old was awake. He also wasn’t going to ask why Damian felt comfortable enough to request a beverage out of him. He was just going to live in the moment, go with the flow, because right now he didn’t have a lot of brain power to do anything else. 

“Okay,” Damian agrees.

Damian patters into the kitchen. Tim deserts his cup of coffee to turn to the fridge. He pulls out a jug of milk. He then places it on the counter, and works on getting a cup from the nearby cupboard. 

“How come you can have hot cocoa, but I can’t?” Damian asks.

Tim hums, tiredly, “It’s not cocoa. It's an adult drink.”

He can’t even speak. What the hell was an adult drink? That sounded like something you’d call booze. How sleep-deprived was he?

He says, “You can’t drink it until you’re older.”

Though, he suppose he’s being hypocritical in a way, because he’d drunk coffee at a young age. Probably as young as Damian. Because, when his nanny hadn’t been looking, he’d stolen sips of her cold iced coffee.

Because he’d been so thirsty.

“Oh,” Damian says.

Tim pours him the glass of milk. He turns around to hand it to Damian. Damian accepts it wordlessly, dropping his teddy bear on the floor to cup it carefully in both hands. He brings it up to his lips. Tim watches for a moment as Damian takes a sip, and he finds amusement in the satisfied sigh that spills out of the kid's lips.

“This is the best,” Damian decides.

“Milk is awesome,” Tim agrees.

He feels like he’s five. He can’t think straight. He can only make the simplest of statements. 

Tim sighs inwardly. He grabs his mug. He takes a sip, resting his free hand on his hip. He settles the mug back on the kitchen's island.

“You’re Tim,” Damian states.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. 

“You’re the one who helped me. Dick told me about you.”

The feathers on Damian’s wings flutter. 

“What did he say about me?”

Damian takes a drink from his milk.

“He says daddy is going to adopt you.”

Tim was glad he hadn’t been drinking any coffee because he would’ve spit it out all over the island.

“That-” Tim stutters, “That’s uh- you must’ve misheard him- because- um- my parents are still alive.”

Damian looks up at him innocently. “Dick told me daddy doesn’t like them, and that they don’t want you.”

Tim sometimes wondered how children could be so blunt.

“How does he know that?”

Damian shrugs. 

Tim doesn’t recall ever really talking to Dick, or Mr. Wayne, about his parents. How had Damian even reached the conclusion that his parents didn’t want him? Granted, his parents certainly were never in the picture, but Tim wasn’t exactly a child anymore. He didn’t need to get adopted. He was eighteen. Or, well, at least that’s what he’d forged on his employment papers.

He was actually seventeen. 

Duke was probably older than him considering the fact that he’d brought up college. Maybe that, or maybe he just thought that Tim was older than him, but Tim wouldn’t put any more thought into it. 

“It’s okay. I like you,” Damian decides. 

Tim smiles awkwardly.

“Thanks?”

“You can be my family,” Damian says. “You’re like me.”

Tim finds himself crouching down.

“I’m like you?”

“Mhm,” Damian nods. He slurps up the rest of his milk. “You’re lonely.”

Tim feels a stab in the heart.

It’s not just that the statement rings true in his heart, but it’s the fact that a six year old child just told him that he was lonely. 

“But it’s okay,” Damian says. “I’ll help you.”

“Yeah?” Tim breathes.

What even was going on right now? None of this made sense. He’d only made a passing comment about his parents a few times over the past month. He’d talked about them at the picnic, but he’d only mentioned them very briefly. He also talked about them with Mr. Wayne- in his study- right? Or was he just remembering it wrong? He didn’t recall. Had the picnic been the only time? Now he was just confused.

“I’ll play with you, so that you’ll never be lonely,” Damian says. “Okay?”

Tim, still utterly lost, says, “Okay.”

What else was he supposed to say? Damian seemed so innocent, and so sure of himself. Tim didn’t want to take that away from him.

Damian nods to himself, satisfied, and then hands his cup to Tim. Tim takes the plastic cup, bewildered, and Damian picks his teddy bear back up.

Damian stays still for a silent moment. Tim had thought this to be the perfect opportunity for the little guy to leave, but instead Damian does something else. He makes a decision in his silence, and Tim witnesses it when the smallest Wayne toddles forward with open arms. Tim doesn’t know what to do when Damian’s hands slink around his middle, and he certainly doesn’t know how to act further when he squeezes him in a hug.

He feels like a stock photo. He’s frozen in time. 

Hesitantly, he gently returns the hug, cup still in hand, and awkwardly pats Damian’s back.

Damian pulls away. He then turns, shoots out a quick, good night, and then scampers out of the kitchen. 

Tim stays on the floor. Clueless.

Stephanie fiddles with her fingers in her lap. She holds her breath as she watches the door, on the other side of the glass, open. She feels as if her breath had been completely stolen when she sees the woman who enters. She wasn’t alone. A police officer follows close behind her. The man roots himself near the door to stand guard. 

Stephanie stares at her new company. She can’t help her roaming eyes. They search her mother’s face. She was older than she remembered her being, but she still had some of the same features. It looked like she kept her short brown hair, and she still had the same glasses Stephanie remembered her having. Stephanie feels her heart lift at the familiarity. 

She grabs at the phone hanging on the side. 

Barbara Gordon, her adopted guardian, hovers behind her at a distance. 

Stephanie’s mother grabs her side’s phone. 

Stephanie opens her mouth, eager to ask questions, but then she hears her mother’s snarl.

“You brat.”

It hurts her like a ton of bricks. 

“This is your fault.”

Stephanie’s frozen. She had thought her mother would be happy to see her. She had thought that maybe, just maybe, she would’ve gotten over her ‘phase’ over the past seven years. Stephanie isn’t sure why, but ever since her father had landed in jail, something in her mother just changed. Stephanie had supposed it was just grief. Had she been wrong? 

Stephanie stumbles out, feeling small, “How is this my fault?”

Her mother grunts. She shifts in her chair. She’d gained weight. The chair creaks underneath her body. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you. Why couldn’t you have just been a good little girl? Why couldn’t you just have stayed quiet instead of turning into a filthy beast?”

Stephanie shutters out a breath. 

“Mommy- I-” Stephanie  begins, but her mother cuts her off with a cold laugh.

“I’m not your mommy.”

Stephanie’s lip wobbles involuntarily. 

“I’m not even your mother. They took you away from me, and I’m thankful for it.”

Stephanie lowers the phone. It hurt. The more her mother spoke, the more it drove into her heart, and the more it stabbed.

“I don’t even know why you’re here. Can’t you tell I don’t want to look at your face? You’ve ruined my whole life! If I didn’t have you- then-! Hell! I’d still have a home! I’d still have a husband!”

Stephanie knows she’d just been with her mother for about three minutes, but she couldn’t handle the barrage of angry words. She drops the phone with a gasp of air, heart constricting, and then she shoots up from her chair. Her chair falls over at the movement, but Stephanie can’t bother to correct its position. She turns, and with a choked sob, she pushes past Barbara to get out into the hallway.

They only reason Barbara had let her talk to her mother to begin with was because Stephanie had been insistent. Barbara had been hesitant about setting up the exchange, and Stephanie was beginning to realize why. She’d been so bitter when she thought Barbara had just been keeping her away from her real mom, but now Stephanie felt completely lost.

“Hey, hey,” Barbara rushes out as she follows Stephanie out. “Sweetheart, please-”

“Don’t call me that,” Stephanie snaps.

Her eyes are blurry. She halts in the middle of the hallway. There were a few people giving her weird looks, but she didn’t care that she was making a scene. 

Because all that felt real was the pain in her heart.

“Okay,” Barbara puts out calmly. Stephanie wonders if she’d even phased her with her words.”How about we get out of here, huh? Talk about this in the car?”

Stephanie grits her teeth. She hugs herself. “Why? So I don’t embarrass you?”

“No. I just want you to feel comfortable,” Barbara says. She’s standing behind Stephanie just a few feet away, and Stephanie looks at her under hooded eyelashes. 

Stephanie barks out a cold laugh. She can hear her mother’s voice in her own. It doesn’t make her feel any better.

“I bet this is what you wanted,” Stephanie gasps out, a sob following, “to see me vulnerable, like a charity case, because that’s all I am now.”

Barbara frowns. “I don’t think that. I don’t think that at all.”

Stephanie’s anger fades as quickly as it had come. She feels like a deflated balloon, sad, and purposeless. Her shoulders slump. She squeezes herself tighter.

“Why doesn’t she love me?” She croaks out.

She digs her fingers into her feathers. A sore reminder. It makes her sick. Makes her want to throw up.

Barbara’s hand rests on her upper arm. Stephanie’s gaze floats to it, and then back to Barbara’s transparent eyes.

“Because she doesn’t see what you really are,” Barbara says. “She doesn’t see how she has an amazing, wonderful, daughter with a loving, forgiving, heart. That’s how you managed it all those years, huh? You always forgave her. She didn’t deserve it, but you kept hoping she’d get better.”

Stephanie stays mute. She doesn’t like being read. It made her feel helpless.

“You’re so good, Stephanie. You are so, so, good. Not only are you forgiving, but you’re long-suffering, and hopeful, and you just keep trying. That says a lot about you. It tells me that you’re a sweet girl, kind, and I just think that’s beautiful.”

Stephanie feels the tears run down her cheeks. They sting. They’re hot. They burn trails into her skin.

“Your mother doesn’t know what she’s missing out on. She can’t see past her own suffering. She shouldn’t have talked to you like that. That was just disgusting.”

They stand in the hallway for a moment. Stephanie goes over Barbara’s words in her mind except she draws a blank. Most of her focus was on the hand resting on her feathers, and Barbara’s equally vulnerable eyes. 

Stephanie looks away.

“I want to go home,” she whispers.

Barbara squeezes her arm reassuringly.

Bruce drags a hand down his face.

“What did you think?” Alfred asks as he sits himself in the driver’s seat. 

Bruce feels completely drained of energy when he says, “I’m calling my lawyer.”

“Hm. I imagine you found out some interesting information,” Alfred hums as he turns on the car. Bruce feels it kick up beneath him. 

It’d been just a couple of days since he’d gotten Barbara’s overview of Tim’s background. Bruce had already looked into it when Tim had his first interview with him, but something didn’t sit right with him at the picnic. He decided to go over Tim’s background again, commissioning Barbara for assistance to find the things that he might have missed, and he’d been skeptical with some of her feedback. She gave him an article from a major conspiracy theorist entertainment source talking about why Tim was kept concealed from the public for so long. Bruce thought it natural for a parent to keep their son out of the public’s eye, it was to keep them safe from lecherous gazes, but after reading through what was to be said Bruce really didn’t like the implications.

Neglect.

Bruce had looked into Tim’s nanny online. He didn’t find anything about her possibly having shirked her duties, but his suspicions grew when he heard the testimonies of those who were previously employed at the Drake’s estate. 

“She was an overall nasty person-”

“We hated that woman.”

“Never really saw her around the young master. She was often in the break room taking a smoke. Hated the smell.”

“I tried reporting her for her behavior, but Mrs. and Mr. Drake weren’t interested in hearing it, and the police wouldn’t look into it. I don’t know what happened there, but I’ll tell you what, my faith in the justice system plummeted after that.”

They all had the same experience to share.

“She changed one day. She was cursed.”

Bruce had found himself asking, each and every single one of them, “What happened?”

The witness accounts were all the same. Tim’s nanny had shifted into a werewolf on a sunny afternoon in August, and Tim had been her immediate first victim.

“Three scars to the back- poor boy-”

Bruce wasn’t sure how that tidbit of information avoided the news. He was beginning to think the parents had interfered to keep things quiet, and he was proven right when the gardener admitted to being paid off. 

He played the understanding interviewer, but in all reality, he realized that the majority of the employees had promised to be silent in exchange for money. It made him angry. There’d only been one who was willing to share what she thought had been wrong, and she’d been fired for it early on in her career. Turns out, going to the police wasn’t something the Drakes enjoyed, because Trisha Mayes had been booted out of their employment days afterward. 

“I don’t even know how they found out I went to the police.”

“So. Is it final? You’re bringing him in?”

Bruce grunts. He leans his head back on the head rest.

“Only if he wants it. I can’t believe he’s gone this long without saying anything.”

“Perhaps you should consult with him, first, before you bring in the law,” Alfred suggests. “I imagine he would be confused to find out you attempted to take away his parent’s custody rights without speaking to him about it.”

Bruce grimaces.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “You’re right.”

There was no question in his mind, though. 

If Tim wanted him, then Bruce would bring him in, and it was simply the least he could do for someone who’d selflessly helped his family. Bruce hadn’t been totally in agreement with Selina when she told Tim that he could call them family, but after giving it some thought, Bruce had realized that he didn’t mind the idea that much. 

“Poor boy,” Alfred tuts. “He must be made out of steel to have lasted so long without becoming cursed.”

Bruce closes his eyes.

“Well,” Bruce says. “That’ll happen if you forge your own documents, and admit yourself into therapy.”

Bruce had fallen asleep on the ride home. He shakes himself out of sleep when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Alfred had kept quiet as Bruce groggily tugged his phone out, having trouble digging it out with tired hands, but eventually he whips it out just in time for the last ring. 

He pulls it up to his ear. He half-expects a scammer since he hadn’t checked the caller ID.

“Bruce Wayne, speaking,” he sighs.

“Daddy?”

Bruce pauses. He’s much more alert. He straightened himself in his chair, withdrew the phone just a few inches to look at the caller ID, and then pulled the phone back to his ear. He didn’t know how, but Damian had called him over the house phone. 

“Damian?” Bruce answers.

“Daddy,” Damian says again, “something’s wrong with Jason.”

Bruce’s heart stutters. “What? What’s wrong with him?”

Bruce can hear Damian shuffle the phone. “I found him on the floor. He’s sick, daddy. He’s got green stuff everywhere.”

Bruce didn’t like the sound of that.

“Damian. Listen to me. Who else is home?”

“Dick went outside to do chores and I can’t find him,” Damian says.

“Okay,” Bruce says, very slowly, “is Kate there?”

“No.”

Bruce inhales, “How about Tim?”

“I don’t know.”

Bruce’s lips tug into a worried frown. “I need you to look for him. Think you can do that, baby?”

“Uhuh,” Damian says.

Bruce waits impatiently as he listens to Damian start moving. Damian scutters about in the manor, Bruce can hear the opening of doors, and he feels some relief when he hears Tim’s voice in the background.

“-wrong?”

“Jason’s sick.”

“Hey, Damian?” Bruce tries to get his attention again. “Can you pass the phone to Tim?”

Damian hums in the affirmative. Bruce hears the phone shuffle about again, until finally he hears Tim’s voice on the other side of the line, “Mr. Wayne?”

“Tim,” Bruce exhales. “Damian tells me Jason is sick. Could you confirm this?”

“Um. Yeah. Sure- just- give me a second,” Tim mumbles.

Bruce waits for him to finish whatever he was doing. Tim then asks Damian to lead the way, and Bruce assumed Damian had agreed when Tim starts to move. 

“Oh. Um. Wow-”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, feeling a tad panicked.

“He’s- He’s okay- he’s just- uh- gushing out everywhere. Like when he was a dragon. I’m just going to-”

Tim adjusts the phone. 

“Is it alright if I call you back? I think I have this handled.”

Bruce blinks.

“Wait-”

Tim hangs up the phone before he can get another word out. Bruce stares at the phone blankly. Two things cross his mind in this instance. Firstly, he can’t wait to get home to check up on Jason, and secondly?

Tim had no problem speaking complete sentences when he was confident in what he was doing.

“Don’t need your help,” Jason slurs sickly as Tim lifts him up. Jason was a heavy man. Tim feels himself stumble as he tries to get his arm around his shoulders.

“Huh, looks different from where I’m standing,” Tim grunts. 

Jason leans his weight onto Tim. Tim feels every muscle in his body strain just to keep Jason upright. He wasn’t really cut out for this sort of thing. 

Jason doesn’t say anything as Tim starts dragging him down the hallway. Damian follows after them curiously, and anxiously, feathers flaring with his mixed up emotions.

Tim takes pity on him. “Damian. I need your help.”

Damian brightens at the statement. “I can help.”

Tim smiles to himself despite his physical exertion. He pulls Jason into the guest bathroom, nearly sliding him across the tile, before gently depositing him into the tub.

“Can you grab the towels for me underneath the sink?” Tim asks Damian without looking at him, and Damian makes a noise in confirmation.

Jason grumbles something under his breath as he blinks up at Tim wearily.

Tim gives him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry about this.”

He turns the shower on.

Jason jolts at the cold water that hits him. He yelps, too, and weakly pulls himself up. He doesn’t last long. He falls back down, head hitting the tile on the wall. He falls prey to the shower’s stinging chill. 

Tim felt regretful but that was usually how showers worked. They didn’t start warming up until they were on for a couple of seconds. 

“You’re evil,” Jason complains.

Damian appears next to Tim with an armful of towels.

“I got the towels,” Damian says proudly.

“Great, that’s great, you’re great,” Tim manages as he accepts the offering. He places it next to his knee, which he was kneeling on, and then returns to watching Jason suffer under the water that rinsed off his scales.

Slime disease.

What did that even mean in an emotional spectrum? What did the green goo represent? The cracked scales? 

“This is cold!” Jason whines. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Tim feels sympathetic. “Just need to rinse it off of you.”

Jason whimpers.

Tim realizes he must be really out of it.

Jason shifts in the shower, muscles tense, but it doesn’t last forever. They start relaxing when the heat kicks on. Tim reaches to turn the showerhead off, realizing that Jason’s slime had come off, but the man grabs Tim’s wrist before he can do so.

“No,” he murmurs, “feels nice.”

Tim blinks at him.

“You were just-”

“I know,” Jason sighs out, releasing Tim’s wrist, “Just. Mm. Don’t turn it off.”

“Okay,” Tim agrees.

His hand rests in his lap.

“What’s wrong with him?” Damian asks.

Tim was about to remark that he didn’t really have much of a clue, but then Jason answers instead saying, “Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m just- man- I’m just a natural screw up.”

Tim frowns.

“Getting all worked up like this,” Jason rumbles, eyes closing, “just because I have freaking mommy issues. It’s pathetic.”

Ah.

“Don’t even know if she’s alive,” Jason sighs.

Damian sits himself down next to Tim. He leans his chin against the edge of the bathtub, even with the water splashing onto him, and then Tim realizes something interesting. They were in a room full of people with mother issues.

“My mommy died,” Damian says simply.

Tim inwardly winces.

Jason doesn’t say anything. Tim doesn’t, either, and Damian keeps quiet after his admission.

“Damn,” Jason finally says.

Chapter Text

Tim finds Damian sitting on the roof.

It gives him a near heart attack. He’d just been doing his chores when he looked up, and when he saw Damian sitting there with his wings hugged around him he almost trips. Tim, without thinking too much about it, deserts his chores. He drops the bucket in his right hand, pulls off his garden gloves, and then rushes through the sanctuary. He doesn’t bother wiping his boots off when he gets in the manor. He was aware that he was tracking mud all over the floor, but the most pressing thing on his mind was Damian. Tim knew he didn’t know how to fly. He would have had to climb out of a window to get out on the roof. It was a dangerous position for a six year old to be in. 

Tim finds the window that Damian had climbed out of. He pulls himself through frantically, and Damian turns to look at him as he does so. 

“Damian,” he gasps, “you shouldn’t be up here.”

Damian quietly watches him as he pops out of the window. Tim crawls towards Damian very carefully. He does not look at the ground. No matter how much he wants to. He knew it’d just make him get woozy.

Tim sits himself next to Damian. He keeps his eyes rooted on him. He didn’t dare look out into the sky. It’d give him vertigo. He’d rather not fall to his death, thank you very much. 

Damian hugs his knees to his chest. 

Tim then knew this was more than just a curious mind wanting to explore. This was Damian’s way of coping with something he was going through. 

“What’s wrong?” Tim finds himself asking.

Damian doesn’t say anything for a moment. Tim swallows down a lump in his throat as he focuses on his hair. It might be strange with how much he was staring, but, again, he didn’t want to have to consider the ground. He just didn’t like putting himself into dangerous positions that might permanently change his life. 

Tim hears a mumble escape Damian’s lips, but he can’t make out any of the words. He can’t read his lips, either, because the kid spoke into his arms. His voice was muffled.

“What was that?” Tim asks, leaning forward on the palm of his hand. He feels the roof tile dig into his skin.

“It’s different,” Damian speaks up. 

Tim expects him to expand on his statement, but he doesn’t. Tim asks, prodding for more, “What’s different?”

Damian squeezes his legs. 

“I’m different,” he says.

Tim inhales. 

Okay.

He discretely pulls out his phone. He twists his body to shield his fingers from Damian’s view, which wouldn’t be hard considering the fact that Damian already was covering himself with his wings, and then he starts shooting out a text.

Tim frantically pushes it back into his pocket.

“What do you mean by that?” Tim asks. He already had a feeling he knew what was going on, but that didn’t mean he would just throw out assumptions as if he understood. He would give Damian the chance to explain himself, the chance to prove him wrong, because Damian deserved that opportunity. 

“I’m not like anyone else,” Damian whispers. His eyes stare out into the unclouded sky. “Everyone’s only nice to me because I’m like this.”

Damian stretches out his wings. Tim narrowly avoids getting slapped by one. 

“Wait a second-” Tim starts. He doesn’t know how to finish. His words fail him. 

Damian glances at him. 

Tim had already started talking, so he knew he had to say something else. Without much of a clue how to console an insecure six year old, Tim asks, “Why would you think that?”

Damian shifts in his place. “Everyone’s nice to me.” He looks back out at the sky. “No one was nice to me before. Not until I had wings. That’s when everyone started to want to play with me.”

Damian buries his face in his arms.

“No one really likes me,” he says. 

“That’s not true,” Tim starts up again. Tim had seen the way Damian’s family reacted when he’d reformed into a human. There were tears to be had, desperate sobs, and raw untainted rejoicing. As a single child, with no family experience to draw from, the scene at the picnic had been an event straight out of the movies. Tim had only seen that sort of thing on the TV screen. It almost seemed fictional. That’s how sweet it had been. 

“You have no idea how much people around here missed you,” Tim says. He finally risks a glance out to the horizon. He gulps. “Did you know that your brother tried to spend time with you every single day? You probably don’t remember.”

“That’s because I changed,” Damian points out. “It’s not because he actually likes me. He just wants to be my friend now that I have wings.”

Tim thinks about how desperate Dick had been. He thinks about all the tears he’d shed over his own guilt. He remembers the slump in Dick’s walk, the withdrawn disposition, and his weary facial features. He’d taken care of Damian every single day not just because he felt like he owed him something, but because he wanted his little brother back. The guilt had been a driving motivator, but it wasn’t the only variable involved. 

“I thought you got along with Dick before you got cursed.” 

Damian frowns. “I guess.”

“Then how could you say he doesn’t like you?”

Damian lifts his head. 

“He didn’t want to play with me all the time like he does now,” Damian says. “He was just being nice to me before because daddy told him to.”

Tim knows that’s wrong.

“What nonsense is that?” Tim hears a new voice. He inwardly sighs in relief as Dick starts climbing out through the window. He was glad that he showed up. Quickly, to boot. He must have read Tim’s text the moment he sent it.

“I’m less likely to do something if dad tells me to do anything,” Dick claims. Tim pulls himself upward on the roof so that Dick can take his place next to his kid brother, and he watches as Dick slinks an arm around the boy's shoulders. Damian looks up at him in surprise.

Dick squeezes him into his side. “I don’t like you because someone told me to like you. I like you because you’re my little brother. You’re Damian. There’s only one of you, and I love you, kiddo.”

Damian’s frown deepens. 

“I don’t know where you got the idea that we don’t love you,” Dick hums. “That’s wrong. Want to know why we’re trying to spend more time with you now?”

Damian nods quietly.

“It’s because we want you to know that we love you, squirt, because you didn’t seem to understand that the first time around.”

Damian puts out, skeptically, “But I’m dirty.”

Dick snorts. “You think we care?” 

Damian blinks.

“Did you know that my birth father isn’t from around here?” Dick says with a small smile. His eyes switch to look out at the distance. “He’s from a place called Romania. That’s a whole different country.” Dick laughs. “And, assuming we aren’t talking about hygiene here, I’m not exactly a pure-blooded Wayne. People make fun of me all the time for coming from the circus.”

Damian opens his mouth. “What?”

“Sometimes people tell me I didn’t belong here, and that dad just took me in because he felt sorry for me. But do you want to know what they don’t know, Damian?”

Damian hesitates. He nods.

“Dad doesn’t care about what we look like, or where we came from. He loves both of us. Did you know that when you got cursed, dad got super sad? He locked himself in his room for days. He couldn’t even eat. He was so worried about you.”

Damian’s voice goes small. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Nothing was the same after you left. It hurt all of us.”

Damian lowers his legs. 

“Because you love me?” He shyly asks.

“Mhm,” Dick hums. He leans sideways to press a kiss against the top of Damian’s head. “You know it. Do you know how much I love you?”

Damian shakes his head.

“I love you bigger than the whole sky,” Dick says, looking up into the endless light blue sea above them, “all the way to the moon, around the sun, and back here.”

Damian’s jaw drops. “You can’t love me that much! That’s a lot!”

“But I do!” Dick laughs. He presses a kiss against Damian’s head again. “I love you that much!”

Damian’s cheeks adopt a red flush. 

“Do you love me, Damian?” Dick asks. His voice lowers in volume. It was a genuine question. Tim would even think him nervous.

Damian thinks about it. 

He nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I love you. I love you a lot. Even more than you love me.”

Dick guffaws, “No way!” 

Damian giggles. It’s a sweet sound. “Uhuh,” he claims innocently. 

Dick laughs again. Tim feels his heart lift at the absolute joy coming from the situation. He watches as Dick squeezes Damian’s shoulders again, making it known through action alone how much he cares about his baby brother, and Damian returns the affection shyly by resting his head against his brother's side. 

Tim watches as Damian’s feathers turn a golden sheen. He can’t remove his eyes as, unbeknownst to Damian, his feathers begin to evaporate into golden dust. It starts at the very tip of his wings, and then it runs up to the arches. The golden dust silently pops in the air until it can’t be seen. Tim blinks. One moment, Damian’s wings were attached to his back, and the next they were completely gone.

Damian didn’t notice what had happened, but Dick was staring wide eyed at him in silence.

Damian’s bright demeanor fades. His features fall. “Is something wrong?”

Dick blinks. 

“Wh- Uh- No. Nothing’s wrong, kiddo, just-”

Dick looks back out into the distance.

“I just can’t believe I’m here with you right now.”

Dick helps Damian get off the roof very carefully after they’ve finished having their moment. Tim follows after. Dick is there to help him balance when he emerges through the other side of the window. Tim accepts his assistance in gratitude. 

Damian darts out of the room to find his father. Dick doesn’t chase after him like Tim thought he would. He sticks around.

“Can I say something?” Dick asks. 

Tim straightens himself. He turns to close the window. 

“Sure.”

Dick sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“Thanks.”

Tim latches the window lock. He turns back to face Dick. His face wasn’t as sullen as it had been the first time he’d met him, and a lot of his features looked lighter in general. He looked youthful, even, unaged by stress. Tim would’ve thought him in his mid-thirties if Dick hadn’t told him he was in his middle-twenties. Now, he was looking his age, and overall healthier. 

“Thanks?” Tim asks.

Dick smiles genuinely. “Thanks for taking care of my family. I know you’ve done a lot for us. No one asked you to, you could’ve just stayed away, but you didn’t. You went out of your way to help us. You texted me when Damian needed me, you helped me figure out what his issue was, and now he’s better.”

Dick takes a step forward. He pulls his hands out. 

“Can I hug you?”

Tim thinks about it for only a second. He thinks about the first time they hugged in Damian’s elementary school, and how he ought to change his hugging tactics. He nods for the practice.

Dick sweeps in the moment he receives Tim’s permission. The air is taken from Tim’s lungs as Dick absolutely crushes him. He has to hunch over, Tim can’t imagine his back was having a great time, but that didn’t stop him.

Tim brings up his arms. He returns the hug as best as he can manage. His strength is nothing like Dick’s, but it was much better than in the hallway. 

“Tim,” Dick mumbles quietly, “You’re God-sent.”

Tim heart warms.

They stay in the hug. Dick makes sure Tim doesn’t have any air by the time he withdraws, and Tim finds himself missing the pressure after it’s gone. Dick then rests a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes it. His fingers dig into the fabric of Tim’s shirt. 

Tim watches as Dick’s eyes drift to Tim’s collar.  

“Hm,” he hums. He retrieves his hand to adjust Tim's collar. Then, when he’s done, he pats his shoulder again. “Can you do me one last favor?”

“Yeah?” Tim says with a raised brow.

Dick chuckles. “Dad is going to pull you over sometime in the next few days. I want you to listen to what he has to say with an open mind.”

“Okay.” That sounded easy enough. “Do you know what he’s going to pull me over to talk about?”

Dick shakes his head fondly. “That’ll ruin the surprise.” He winks. “Let’s just say it’d benefit all of us. I’d get to repay all that you’ve done for me for the rest of your life.”

Tim connects the dots. Damian. Kitchen. Hot Cocoa. Adoption. It couldn’t be. Right?

Dick lifts his hand off of his shoulder for the final time. He sticks his hands back in his pockets, and he starts to whistle as he exits the room.

Tim stands alone. Perplexed.

“Check this out,” Duke says while munching on a stick of beef jerky. Tim can’t recall a time where Duke wasn’t eating. Nevertheless, Tim focuses his attention on Duke’s phone, and he peers over Duke’s shoulder to see the news article on his screen. “Did you know that Mr. Wayne was the first reported cursed-cure case?”

Tim skims the headline. 

The Cursed Can Be Cured?

Tim looks away. “Yeah.”

He didn’t want to expand. He was a low-key stalker. The only reason he’d found out about the sanctuary was because of his nanny, and the only reason he’d looked into Mr. Wayne was to prevent himself from turning. That had been when it all began. 

“Just thought it was interesting,” Duke says with a shrug. “Wonder how this all started to begin with.”

Tim mentally pauses.

That was a good question. Where did it all begin? Why did it affect the entire planet?

“Sounds like a job for us,” Duke says. “Didn’t Cass say we’re supposed to prevent the curse from happening, too? Maybe we can figure out where it’s coming from, and nip it in the bud!”

Tim furrows his brows in deep thought.

He steps over to one of the couches. He slowly settles himself on one of the cushions. 

If they found out where the curse originated from, could it be possible to completely stop it from cursing people? Would it change everyone who’d already been cursed? Would it fix the entire sanctuary?

“Hey, dorks,” Jason calls out.

Jason strides into the library with a towel held up to his neck. Tim feels bad for him. He had to constantly be careful about his scales. Sometimes they’d just pop off, and start leaking against his will. 

“Jason!” Duke greets. 

Duke’s greeting startles Tim. He hadn’t realized it until that moment, but it’d been two weeks since Jason had started living in the manor. He was now a common sight. 

Jason collapses on the couch next to Tim. He had no qualms with personal space. Tim tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him. He might not be entirely comfortable being so close to someone, but he felt confident enough to say, “Feel like sharing more about your emotional issues? Possibly cure yourself in the process?”

Jason snorts. “Nice try.”

Tim leans against the couch arm on his right. He didn’t know why Jason was intent on not getting to the root of his problem, but Tim knew it was a dangerous mindset to have. He couldn’t force Jason to open himself up, but he could certainly invite him to do so. He would often try to give him the option. Jason usually declined. 

What Tim did know about Jason was limited. He was a street kid, he had issues with his mother, and he was involved with the Waynes. Tim would have to seek out Mr. Wayne later. He needed to find out how they were related. It might help Jason’s case. 

“Did you hear about the giant squid guy?” Jason grunts. He leans back against the couch. “I heard he’s out of the tank. Bruce was talking to him in his office.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

“Yeah. Arthur, I think? Apparently he’s some bigshot marine biologist.”

“Good for him!” Duke cheers. “Now I don’t have to worry about learning how to clean his tank! I was dreading it.”

Tim hadn’t even heard of such a thing. “You were going to clean his tank?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. Mr. Wayne was going to teach me.”

Tim tries to keep down a full-body shudder. He couldn’t even imagine trying to swim around a freaking giant squid in an attempt to keep his tank clean. A tank that was massive.

“That would’ve absolutely terrified me,” Tim admits.

Jason side-glances at him. He smirks.

He lowers his towel. “Of course it would because you’re a wuss.”

Jason shoots a hand out. Tim squawks when Jason starts ruffling his hair. “You just got that wimpy look about you,” Jason teases. Tim grabs his hand, and pries it away. He was surprised with how strong Jason’s arm was. He struggles against it. “I bet you wouldn’t survive one day out on the streets.”

“Dude,” Tim complains.

Jason laughs. He pulls his hand away. “I’d do it. I’d clean the giant tank just to say that I did it.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “because you have zero self-preservation.”

“I have plenty of self-preservation.”

“As shown by the fact that you want to do nothing about your curse?”

“Okay, look, that has nothing to do with-”

The two continue bickering back and forth. Duke watches as he stuffs the last bit of beef jerky in his mouth. He observes for about two minutes before Cass joins them in the library. When she looks over at Jason and Tim with a raised brow, Duke says, “Don’t worry about them. They’ve been doing that for the last two days.”

Chapter Text

“They never loved you.”

Tim scrambles for the closet. The closet is safe. The closet will protect him. His nanny never looks in there, she’s too busy damaging things in the hallways.

This time, though? This time she’s right on his heels. He looks over his shoulder to see her hulking figure. She was grotesque in appearance. He observes in horror as her pulsing muscles are covered in brown fur. Her legs grow longer, tilted, and her arms drag down to the floor. Her fingernails extend into long claws, scraping against the carpet, as she snarls.

“You’ve always been a pain in my side.”

He has the phone in his hand. It’s hers. His hand shakes as he types in the magic numbers. The numbers that were supposed to have helped him a long time ago.

He pulls the phone up to his ear. He weeps into the microphone.

“Help. My nanny. She-”

He feels three sharp claws run through his back. 

He screams.

Tim can’t sleep.

His heart is beating hard, like he was on the verge of a panic attack, and Tim might not be far from it. He pulls himself out of bed, and drags himself out into the hallway. He needs to breathe. He needs to find a safe place. His closet isn’t safe enough. He needs another place to hide. He needs something that’s dark, enclosed, and protective.

Tim isn’t even aware he’s crying until a tear drips off of his chin. 

He stumbles through the hallway. He slams into someone’s back. 

Tim stumbles backward. He lands on his rear. He can’t get up. His fingers thread through short carpet threads. His hands feel so dry. It’s not a pleasant feeling to feel the rough carpet against his skin. 

“Tim?”

Dick turns. He crouches down in front of him. Tim wasn’t sure what he was doing up so late, but he didn’t really care to find the reason. He was having trouble breathing. His lungs were constricting, he was wheezing, and the tears were burning his face.

“Woah. You’re not looking too good,” Dick says. Tim’s not even sure how he sees him in the dark of the night. There’s barely any light. That was the reason Tim had bumped into him in the first place.

“C’mon,” Dick mumbles. He seemed to know that something was wrong because he wraps Tim’s arm around his shoulders. Tim hangs from his side as he guides them both upward. Dick grunts as he leads Tim to the living room. It’s a slow journey. Tim feels like a burden. 

Dick deposits Tim on a couch before flipping a switch on.

Then, Tim sees him crouching in front of him again, and he grabs Tim’s hands in his. He peers up into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, softly. 

Tim wants to say that absolutely everything was wrong, but his back was beginning to flare up in phantom pain. It reminded him of the truth of his panic episode. He had a bad dream. 

“Bad dream,” Tim whispers. “My back-” He gasps. “Hurts.”

He exhales a heave of air. Dick’s face falls into a serious set of features. He considers Tim’s state as if he were one of The Cursed, and Tim wouldn’t be surprised if he shifted into one at that very moment. He had coping mechanisms to deal with bad dreams, but nothing was coming to mind. His heart was in aching pain. His brain was painfully muddled. 

“Okay,” Dick puts out. Gently, he continues, “Can I see? Can I see your back?” 

Tim squeezes his eyes shut. Tears ran down like he was a leaking pipe. He feels broken like one, too. 

He nods.

Anything, please, anything to make it feel better.

Dick gets up. He guides Tim to sit sideways on the couch. Tim sits cross-legged. He hunches over on himself. His face is almost touching one of his knees. His arms cover his stomach as if that was where the problem was, but in reality he just didn’t know where to put them. It was more so to comfort himself than anything else. 

Dick carefully lifts Tim’s shirt. Tim feels the cold air hit his back. He waits for Dick to say something, but he doesn’t say anything. He stares at Tim’s back with a sullen face. His eyes are dark as he considers Tim’s scars.

Finally, after a moment of examination, he asks, “Is it the scars that hurt?”

Tim nods. Tears squeeze from his eyes like lemon drops.

“Okay,” Dick breathes. “How about we get you laying on your stomach?”

Dick gets off the couch. Tim shifts. Dick waits for him to lay himself on his stomach.

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” Dick says. “I’m going to heat up a rice bag. Then, I’m going to get some pain medication, and we’ll go from there. Okay?”

Tim nods into the cushions. He buries his face in them. 

“Mmkay,” Dick says. “Hang in there. I’ll be right back.”

Two pills, and one heated rice bag later, Tim stops crying.

He focuses on his breathing. He faces the deep embarrassment of roping Dick into his problem. He’s even more embarrassed when Dick starts to massage his scars. Apparently, he used to do it for his dad all the time, and had an experienced hand. It felt really good, Tim wasn’t going to lie, but the fact that Dick felt he had to massage him at all made him want to hide. 

Dick didn’t seem ashamed at all. He was gentle. He was purely professional as he worked on the knots in Tim’s back. 

“Do you mind if I ask?” Dick whispers. He presses into Tim’s back. 

Tim keeps his face hidden in the cushion. His voice is muffled as he says, “My nanny. She turned into a werewolf.”

Dick grimaces. “She did this to you?”

Tim sighs. 

“Yeah.”

Dick frowns. “How old were you?”

Tim tries to think. “I don’t know. Twelve, I think?”

Dick’s frown deepens. 

Tim continues, “She was shipped off to a sanctuary in France. I studied up on her case. Apparently, her husband was cheating on her, and she was drinking a lot. It didn’t do anything to help with her emotional state.”

“Hm,” Dick hums in acknowledgment.

“I never liked her,” Tim mumbles. “She- She never did anything to me physically- not besides the scars- but the things she told me. It makes me want to-”

He swallows. It made him want to punch her. 

Because, who the hell told a twelve year old that they wouldn’t amount to anything? That their parents hated them? That the only good thing they were good at was staying quiet? Tim had so many problems because of that woman. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover. His coping mechanisms were the only way he kept himself sane.

“Makes you want to what?” Dick asks softly.

Tim feels the tears again. It’s stupid. He’d just stopped crying.

“Makes me want to go back in time, and hug a lonely little boy who felt unloved.”

Dick presses a little too hard into Tim’s back. Tim grunts.

Dick makes a swift apology. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Just- what- what about your parents? Did they know?”

“Never were around,” Tim says. “They’d stay home for a week max before traveling to a different country. They’d send me gifts sometimes, but it was hard connecting to them through objects. Never called. Didn’t know how to tell them.”

Dick bluntly says, “They sound like terrible parents.”

Tim sighs into the cushions when Dick gets a good spot in his back. “I guess.”

Dick mutters. “I’m glad you’re out of that place.”

Tim hums in questioning. “What was that?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Oh.

That was nice.

“Me too,” Tim realizes aloud.

Dick spends about the entire night making Tim comfortable. Tim thought he was embarrassed during the massage, but he was further embarrassed when Dick carried him back to his room. 

Dick assured him there was no shame in it, but that didn’t stop Tim from feeling vulnerable. 

Dick made the promise to Tim, as he tucked him in (he tucked him in!), that he’d talk to Bruce about him staying in for the day. Tim expressed his gratitude many, many, times before Dick left the room. 

Tim thought that would be all. No. It wasn’t.

He gets visitors throughout the day. Jason passes by his room to heckle him out in the doorway, opening his door without knocking, and Duke spends time at his desk silently playing on his phone. There wasn’t any awkwardness to be had. He was just there to give Tim company, and Tim was quite glad for it. 

Cass visited to deliver food. She stayed to make sure he ate. 

Damian pokes his head in. He’d escaped his family to check up on Tim, and he’d gifted Tim one of his stuffed animals. It was a stuffed dolphin. Damian insisted he sleep with it since he needed a friend, and Damian wasn’t tired enough to be said friend. Tim found the whole exchange endearing.

Tim meets Alfred for, perhaps, the third time since his stay. Alfred was usually around the house fixing things up, and Tim never really spoke to him unless need be. Alfred wanted to see if he was okay, though, and Tim appreciated the gesture. 

The last person to visit him, in the evening, was Bruce Wayne himself.

Tim was sitting at his desk when he heard the knock on the door. He thoughtlessly calls out, “It’s open.”

Mr. Wayne enters his room with a respectul step. He cared for Tim’s space, and he wanted to make sure he knew that. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

Tim, realizing it was Mr. Wayne, takes his attention off of his laptop. He focuses everything on his boss.

“Fine!” He says, rushing out. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His boss hums. “That’s good. Mind if I sit?”

Tim nods. Mr. Wayne sits on his mattress.  

“Dick told me you weren’t feeling good this morning.”

Tim smiles awkwardly. “Yeah. Did he tell you why?”

“No.”

“Oh. Um. Well. I’m feeling better now.”

He was pleasantly surprised that Dick hadn’t exposed everything to Mr. Wayne. 

“That’s great, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says softly. “You know you’re always welcome to take a break for health reasons, right?”

Now he did.

“That’s nice to know,” Tim admits. Had Dick not convinced him to stay in his room for the day, he wasn’t sure he’d have rested. Not if it was up to him.

“Don’t hesitate in calling in sick,” Mr. Wayne says. “We may have limited staff, but we managed ourselves with just a small handful of people. You can always take a day off.”

“I’ll make sure to remember.”

“Good,” Mr. Wayne says. He leans forward. His elbows rest on his knees. His fingers intertwined together. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about. Is now a good time?”

Alarm bells ring in Tim’s mind. “I’m all ears.”

Mr. Wayne stares at Tim seriously. Tim’s pessimism kicks in. For a moment, he thinks he might just be in trouble, or that Mr. Wayne was going to give him a lecture about what he’d done wrong out in the sanctuary. 

“This is a serious topic,” Mr. Wayne starts, “and by no means do I intend to offend you. I’m only bringing it up because you’re important to me, my family, and this sanctuary.”

Tim’s mind flies to Damian. It couldn’t be true. Mr. Wayne couldn’t really be willing to adopt him. Tim hadn’t even given it much thought because it was such a disbelievable thing. There would be no reason for Mr. Wayne to want Tim. They didn’t know each other as well as they could, there was no reason for him to want Tim as a son, and Tim knew he couldn’t be adopted if your parents still held custody over him.

“I’ve looked into your past,” Mr. Wayne gets straight to the point. “I’ve good reason to bring your nanny to court for child neglect. Your parents are not exempt.”

Tim feels his heart stills. He wasn’t prepared. 

“I didn’t want to do anything unless you gave me your permission,” he admits. “I have no right to interfere in your life. But, in the instance that you happen to be interested in what I’m implying, I won’t hesitate to put my money into bringing them in to be judged.”

Tim can’t think. 

“And-” Mr. Wayne pauses. He’s looking hesitant, now, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say what he was going to say. He takes a deep breath before he pushes onward, “And since you’re a minor-”

Tim tenses. What? 

He knew?

“I would be willing to- to-”

Mr. Wayne looked uncomfortable. He shifts. His hands separate. He averts his gaze. He finishes, “-give you a home. If you’d like. With my family.”

He looks back up at Tim. “Damian loves you, Dick told me he wouldn’t mind, Selina is open to the idea, she was the one who proposed it, in fact, and I would- would be honored if you- uh-”

He rubs the back of his neck.

“If you decided you’d have me. As a father.”

Silence falls between them. Tim’s mind boots back up. It rattles away the surprise, the stunned stupor, and then points out how ridiculous this entire thing was. This couldn’t be real. Mr. Wayne couldn’t want him. Right?

Tim makes an internal cold laugh. 

“Mr. Wayne, I appreciate the sentiment, but this would be a mistake on your part.”

Mr. Wayne looks at him calmly. His disposition adopts an intrigue, and the awkwardness fades away. 

“Why?” He asks.

Tim didn’t like that question. How was he supposed to explain how he felt?

Tim snorts. “I have a load of problems,” he says. “I wouldn’t want them to be yours, too. I’m a giant screw up. I’d bring nothing to the table.”

Mr. Wayne frowns. “That can’t be right.”

Tim goes mute.

“You’d bring plenty to the table,” he insists, “and, even if you didn’t, I’d still ask you the same question anyway. Besides this, I think we’re perfectly capable of taking you in, regardless of issues that might arise.”

“I’ll tarnish your name,” Tim insists. “Having me around will just bring up a scandal for the newspapers.”

Mr. Wayne comments dryly, “I don’t particularly care for what the newspapers say about me.”

Tim stresses, “You should. The sanctuary depends on you. And-”

“Ah,” Mr. Wayne realizes aloud. “You’re worried about the sanctuary.”

Mr. Wayne smiles at the revelation. 

“Do you know what you could bring to the table?” He starts again. “Your selfless heart, your passion for mysteries, and your kind soul. I can tell that much from your concerns alone.”

Mr. Wayne chuckles.

“You’ll have to give me a better reason than the sanctuary, Tim. It’s important to help people, but my family matters to me more than the sanctuary. You helped me understand that. I’d like to pay you back by giving you what you’ve given to me. People to call your own.”

Mr. Wayne shakes his head fondly.

“Here is what I’ll promise you,” he says. He looks up into Tim’s eyes. “It looks like the reasons you’re providing me to decline all connect back to the perception you hold for yourself. I can promise you Tim, that if you become my son, that you will never feel unloved. You will always be valued, cared for, and included. You will never have to worry about going hungry, or who to turn to if you have trouble. You will have siblings who watch your back, as you have watched theirs. You will have a mother who will never not fuss over you when she sees you, and you will have a very proud father.”

Mr. Wayne never removes his eyes.

“You will never have to suffer alone.”

He offers Tim a smile.

“You deserve a family. I'd like you'd to join mine, if you want."

Chapter Text

Tim smiles awkwardly. He shrinks in on himself. He would jet if he could, but there was simply no running away. Not when he was sandwiched on both sides in a booth, closed off by a group of employees singing him a happy birthday. 

Duke, who sat on his left, seemed to be getting a kick out of it. Damian, who sat on his right, was clapping excitedly. Even though the cake that the employees had brought was for only one person, Tim, Damian was delighted to see it. He seemed entranced by the simple candle flaming on top. Tim even heard him say, “I didn’t know it was your birthday!”  

It wasn’t.

Dick was bent over the table hiding his head in his arms. The trembling in his body would suggest he was holding in laughter. Mr. Wayne, who sits across from him, looked unimpressed. He had a quirked brow as the employees played out their stunt. Tim had a good guess that Mr. Wayne didn’t have much to do with the surprise celebration.

Tim feels his cheeks go red when the pretty blonde, standing in the front of her employee squad, places the plate of cake in front of him. Everyone’s eyes settle on him, and Tim didn’t want to make more of a scene. He blows out the candle with nervous laughter. The employees start cheering for him. They clap, loud, and Duke joins them. 

Tim waits for the group to disappear before sliding the cake in Damian’s direction. Damian lights up. His gleeful squeal made the strange event worth it.

“Cake, daddy!” Damian claps his hands excitedly. 

“Yes,” his father acknowledges in contemplation.

“Dude!” Duke laughs. He slings an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that it was your birthday today!”

Tim shrugs his arm off. “It’s not my birthday.”

Dick lifts his head from his arms. He has a big, big, grin. “Okay,” he laughs, wiping away a stray tear, “Who’s idea was that? Step up. Confess. We can take it.”

In his peripheral vision, Tim notices someone standing up. He doesn’t expect them to approach their table. Mr. Wayne’s eyes adopt recognition, but it takes Tim a second to understand what he’s looking at. The stranger who was wearing a pair of sunglasses, hair smoothed down with grease, and dressed like he came from a jog makes himself comfortable next to Dick. He tears his sunglasses off, folds them, and hooks them on his shirt.

“Jason?”

Jason smirks. “Were you waiting for someone else? It’s like you didn’t invite me, or something.”

Tim internally winces. The reason no one had invited him was because, well, no one thought he’d want to show up. Not with Dick, and Mr. Wayne, sitting in the same room. Jason had been doing a pretty good job of avoiding them in the manor. 

“You’re always welcome to join us, no matter the event,” Dick says. “You’re basically family.”

Jason’s smirk slips. His face goes sour. 

DIck watches him in disdain. It was obvious he was trying to figure out Jason. What exactly had triggered him to get him upset?

Jason shuffles in his spot. He scoots away from Dick. He addresses Tim with his eyes, and then says, “Well. Whatever. Congratulations for getting adopted, I guess.”

He sticks his hands in his pockets, and sinks into his booth seat. 

“Were you the one who asked them to sing me a happy birthday?” Tim asks.

Jason shrugs. 

Tim wasn’t sure how to interpret that beyond the fact that Jason clearly wasn’t in the mood to socialize anymore. It was amazing how quickly he’d transformed from a confident, cocky, man to a deflated, distant, loner. 

“It was a long, long, five months,” Dick says, patting Tim’s shoulder, “but we’re glad to welcome you to the family!”

Dick was right. It’d been five months since Mr. Wayne had approached him. Many things had happened during that time. Tim had been asked to stand as a witness in court against his parents, and his nanny who’d been long since cured. Tim had reluctantly agreed, but it’d been hard to be in the same room as his family. He didn’t feel any love for his parents, and hanging around his nanny made him nervous. Fortunately, Dick never left his side outside the courtroom, which included having his protection when his nanny tried to approach him afterwards. Tim can still remember having Dick’s arm wrapped around him protectively, pressing Tim into his side, in a nonverbal promise that nothing would happen to him. Not under his watch.

Besides the court case, which had been complete hell, Tim worked with the Precursors to cure various people. The goal was to completely empty the sanctuary, and they had dented about 20% of the population. It didn’t seem like a lot considering the fact that they kept getting new residents. Tim was intent on figuring out the origin of the curse, obsessed over nipping the problem in the bud, but he hadn’t found a lot of information on the issue. 

Dick stands up in the middle of Tim’s thoughts. He holds out a glass. “Let's toast to our new addition!”

Duke cheers. Damian was too focused on stuffing his face to do what was asked, Jason was sulking, and Mr. Wayne picks up his glass to press it out into the air. Duke follows along in genuine amusement. 

Tim’s face turns red.

The only reason he’d join the Wayne family was because of all that his adopted father had promised him. Tim clung to it like a lifeline. He didn’t realize how much he wanted a family until it’d been proposed to him, and now that he did have a family he was bashful about it. He wasn’t sure how to act around them now. Becoming a member of a family meant changing the dynamics of their relationship. The only person Tim didn’t worry too much about was Damian. He was simply too innocent to care about treating Tim any differently. 

And, speaking of which, Damian holds out a forkful of cake for his taking. His silly little smile was heartwarming.

Tim, feeling brave, lets Damian pop it into his mouth.

Tim is exhausted at the end of the day.

Social interaction required a different kind of energy than the sanctuary did, and Tim had expelled all of it in his celebration. He was ready to have some time to himself. He dressed in a comfortable set of pajamas, and then he climbed into bed ready to spend the rest of the evening lazing around. 

It doesn’t take him long to doze off. He’s about ready to sleep the entire night away until he hears the rustle of his bedsheets. 

Tim is far too tired to confront his intruder. He rolls over on his side to groggily inspect the creature who decided it was a good idea to invade his space, and for some reason he is not very surprised to see a little head of black hair.

Damian snuggles into his chest quietly, pressing the stuffed dolphin he’d given Tim between them. 

Tim was far too tired to think over the situation coherently. He automatically wraps his arms around Damian’s smaller form, and mumbles a whole bunch of nothing to comfort him. He might as well be speaking a different language, but Damian didn’t seem to mind too much. He bends his neck backward to press a sloppy kiss against Tim’s jawline.

He was a big brother now.

“Daddy!” Damian sings. He climbs up into his father’s lap at the head of the dining table, and his father grunts as he adjusts himself for him.

“Sweetheart,” he greets.

Tim holds up a piece of pancake to his mouth. He takes a bite as he observes the people surrounding him. It was amazing how many people showed up for breakfast. Cass, who Tim found out was apparently his sister (he didn’t even know Mr. Wayne had a daughter. He had just assumed Cass was a ward of some sorts), was happily popping blueberries into her mouth. Duke was scrolling through his phone next to her, somehow invited to family breakfast (maybe he just forced his way in), and Dick was across from them. Humming over his own fruit-covered pancakes.

“Look what I drew,” Damian says. He holds out a picture for his father’s taking.

His father grunts again. He grabs the paper from Damian’s hands, deserting his silverware, and squints his eyes at the picture. Tim couldn’t see what it was, but he’d seen Damian’s drawings before. It was probably a colorful crayon sketch of stick figures. 

“Very nice,” Mr. Wayne compliments. “I like it very much. It’s wonderful.”

Damian beams. Mr. Wayne puts the paper down next to his plate, and starts cutting up his pancakes. Damian rocks side to side in happiness, no doubt due to his father’s praise, and he’s all too eager to let his father feed him. Mr. Wayne takes his fork, pushes it into a piece he’d cut up, and then draws it back to Damian’s mouth. Damian accepts the offering without question.

It was nice to see how close they were. Tim can remember not knowing too much about Damian’s family life. It was hard to believe he’d been one of The Cursed. No one would suspect such a thing looking at him at first glance.

But, just because you were cursed once, didn’t mean you would be immune to getting cursed again.

It’s for this reason that Tim wanted to find the origin of the problem. He didn’t want to see Damian running around as a pegasus again, or to have Stephanie cursed to live the rest of her life as a griffin. Unlike Damian, she had yet to be cured, and Jason was unfortunately in the same boat. It didn’t help that he was completely unwilling to express his issues. He might not remember much, but Tim had the suspicion that Jason understood what was wrong with himself.

The only one who wasn’t sitting at the breakfast table happened to be the person in contemplation. Jason was always somewhat of a lone wolf, but ever since the celebration, he didn’t seem too keen on spending time with anyone.

Tim frowns at the thought. It wasn’t a good sign for his mental state. He needed to find Jason before he regressed back into a dragon.

Tim excuses himself with the wipe of a napkin on his lips. He stands up, smiles at Dick who beams at him, and leaves the dining room in favor of locating their grumpy guest.

It’s not hard to find him. Tim spots the green goo trail on the quest to search for him. He follows the path hoping to find Jason at the end of it. He’s a little surprised to follow it all the way to one of the untouched balconies. 

Jason was resting against a stone railing. It had to hurt his back, surely, but that didn’t stop him from slumping against it. He had a towel pressed to his arm, but it looked completely soaked. Tim felt sorry for him. Having the problem of leaking, as if you were some kind of busted engine, couldn’t be fun. 

Jason looked horrible. It wasn’t just the fact that his arm was oozing, but he didn’t seem as healthy as before. Tim didn’t like the looks of it.

“Jason?” Tim asks. He’s careful about how he approaches him. “You okay?”

Jason looks up at him. He smiles sarcastically.

“Yes, Tim, I’m absolutely fine. Can’t you see? I’m perfect! Never been better! My life is all sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows.”

Jason’s fake smile widens. 

“So, why don’t you just turn around, and walk back to your little family?”

Tim didn’t know what to make out of that comment, not in the moment, because Jason gasps in pain.

Tim doesn’t think. He crouches in front of Jason as he winces. He grits his teeth, hard. Tim can see his jaw clench with it.

“Jason, does something hurt?”

Tim knew for a fact that Jason’s disease wasn’t painful. It was bothersome, yes, and sometimes a drag to clean up after. That didn’t mean it physically hurt Jason.

Jason looks at Tim warily, like he couldn’t trust him.

“Nothing hurts-” Tim reaches out a hand to grab at Jason’s towel, to possibly take over his responsibility, but Jason hisses at him. “Don’t touch me.”

Tim withdraws as if slapped. Jason gasps in another bout of pain. This time, the towel drops, and his hands grasp for his heart. Tim watches in horror as Jason’s neck scales begin to crawl up his face.

Tim’s on leader mode. He grabs the towel, presses it against Jason’s arm, and adopts a steel gaze.

“Jason,” he says. There’s no more playing around. No more games. “You’re regressing.”

“No, I’m not,” Jason denies. 

“It’s been five months, Jason,” Tim reminds him. “Nothing has changed. We’ve done nothing to help your problem.”

“And I don’t need help,” Jason grumbles. “What’s so wrong with turning back into a dragon?”

Tim furrows his brows. “Everything! Not only will it cause chaos, but it’ll take you away! Maybe even for good!”

“Nobody will care,” Jason says.

“Wrong,” Tim grits out. 

“Right,” Jason counters.

“No,” Tim returns angrily. He’s never been angry at Jason before, not like this, “Everyone within this household will care, Jason, whether you like it or not, because even when you’re a complete ass that doesn’t stop people from loving you.”

Jason goes quiet.

Then, as if it were a funny situation, he smiles.

“You love me?” He cackles.

Tim rolls his eyes. 

“Sorry, Tim,” he huffs out in laughter, “I’m taken. Her name is fate, and I think she’s got a thing for me. This was bound to happen.”

“We can stop this from getting worse,” Tim says. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason sighs out with his own roll of his eyes. 

Tim is frustrated, angry, and annoyed. He had enough of Jason’s lack of compliance. Tim had spent months trying to get something out of him. Bickering with Jason was always fun, but the neglect of his health wasn’t enjoyable. Tim was tired of having Jason fight him. 

“It does matter,” Tim growls. He drops the towel. He grabs both of Jason’s shoulders. Jason looks stunned. Good. “You matter! I’m tired of you doing this to yourself!”

Tim looks him straight in the eye. Unwavering.

“You shouldn’t bother-” Jason begins.

Tim’s eyes narrow. He interupts, “Jason.” His tone adopts one of authority. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me what you remember about your mom, we’re going to go looking for her, and figure out the root of your issue. You’re going to be healthy, happy, and cured.”

“You can’t just-”

“Quiet,” Tim snaps. 

“I-”

“Stop talking! I don’t want to hear it! You’re important, Jason, and you’re going to be happy, damn it. I’m going to make sure of it. Understand?”

“Tim-”

“Understand?”

Jason seals his lips. His eyes search Tim’s. Tim felt like there was a fire burning in his chest. Jason was stubborn, for sure, but Tim wasn’t going to back down. 

Jason’s hard shell cracks. Tim can almost hear it. Jason’s shoulders slump forward, and his bottom lip begins to wobble. Tim is tugging him into a crushing embrace before he even realizes what he’s doing, and distantly in the corners of his mind he understood he was emulating Dick’s behavior.

“I’m tired,” Jason croaks on his shoulder.

Tim hugs him tighter. 

“Don’t you dare give up,” he warns. 

He was going to get to the bottom of this whether Jason liked it or not.

Chapter Text

Jason was getting bad.

Tim throws open the door to the backseat. Jason was sprawled out on leather, spilling green gunk everywhere, but that was the least of their problems. Jason had a more pressing issue. He was regressing. Tim was making a big risk bringing Jason out into the city, but it was where Jason swore they needed to be.

Tim is about to assist Jason out of the car, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Let me,” Dick says.

It’d been hard convincing Jason to let Dick come along. Jason had only agreed under the circumstances that Dick kept his mouth shut about his ‘breakdown.’ Tim was glad. He simply wasn’t strong enough to carry Jason around. It would be different if Jason could support his own weight, but Jason’s main focus wasn’t on keeping himself upright. 

Tim had never seen a transformation look so painful before, not even in videos posted online, but Jason was wincing in constant agony. It was frightening to watch the scales take over his cheeks. Tim’s heart was racing at the sight. He had to be the most nervous out of the three of them. His palms were sweating. His heart was beating at an irregular pace, and his mind was racing with thoughts. 

Dick had his lips pressed in a permanent thin line, and Jason was still coherent enough to laugh about Tim’s anxiety. They seemed more in control over themselves than Tim. 

Jason had said, “You’re gonna make me nervous if you keep glancing over your shoulder, Timbo. I’m fine. Don’t have to- hng- check up on me every twenty seconds.”

Tim moves aside. Dick bends down to prop Jason up. Jason grunts as Dick pulls him out of the car. He makes a comment, “I’m going to get this green crap all over you.”

Dick offers him a smile. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah? Well. I mind. I’m disgusting.”

“You can’t control it,” Dick says. 

“Of all the things,” Jason groans, “Why do I have to look like the impersonation of a humanoid slime tank?”

“It probably has something to do with your curse,” Tim says. Jason hangs from Dick for a few seconds with his arm wrapped around Dick’s shoulder. When it was made clear that he wasn’t going to last long, Dick adjusts, and crouches down to hook Jason’s entire body over his shoulders. Jason weakly protests as Dick picks him up in a traditional fireman’s carry. 

Dick ignores him as they start walking for the apartment lot. 

“You never did tell us where you used to live, Jay,” Dick says as they head for the sketchiest place in all of Gotham. The building’s windows were all barred up with black iron, a few of the chipped doors had bullet holes embedded in the wood, and there was a coat of yellow smoke on aging brick. 

“You would’ve tried to convince me to leave if you found out,” Jason murmurs.

“Would that have been so bad?” Dick returns. 

Jason takes his time. Finally, after Dick pauses for further direction, Jason sighs.

“No,” he decides. He doesn’t wait for a reply. He quickly continues, as if he hadn’t confessed at all, “My place is on the farthest right. 809.”

Dick turns to the right. Tim follows behind him, eyes trained on Jason’s form, and on the ooze that slowly drips on the back of Dick’s shirt. It doesn’t take them very long to get to Jason’s door. It stood out. There was a tiny, dead, garden hanging in a window box. The window was busted, as if someone had shot through it, and the mailbox was untouched. There were piles of letters stuffed in the box hitched to the side, bursting out to the brim. 

Jason goes quiet. Dick glances over at Tim.

Tim brushes past him to knock on the door. 

That was all it took to provoke the sound of yapping. The grey curtains in the window rustle. A little black nose pushes through the middle, and then a whole white-furred head pops into view. The dog spots them. He explodes in volume. Jason huffs out in exasperation. “You’re still alive? Holy crap, old man, you’re breaking world records here.”

“This is your dog, Jay?” Dick asks with a fond smile. 

“He’s not a dog. He’s a rat,” Jason grumbles. He then raises his voice, “Ma! Come and get your damn dog!”

They wait around awkwardly for a minute as the dog barks at them. Then, with a desperate wiggle, the doorknob turns. Tim watches as a man throws open the door, wheezing out a surprised breath through his nose. His eyes were blown wide in surprise. Jason gives him a good look over Dick’s shoulder, unimpressed. 

“Jason?”

Jason opens his mouth, probably to make a sarcastic comment, but then he freezes. His own blue eyes widen in revelation. Finally, after a quiet moment, he says, “You- It was- You were the one who-”

Jason pats Dick frantically.

“This was a bad idea. We need to leave.”

“Jason?” Dick questions.

“Turn around, Dick. Right now.”

“Jason. We can’t just leave. You’re getting worse.”

“This is the last place I should be,” Jason panics. “This-”

Jason slams on Dick’s back. “Get me out of here,” he hisses.

“Jason, wait,” the man says. “We should talk.”

Jason panics further. Tim watches as the ooze pours out of him. It was horrifying to watch. It’d just been a leak before, but now it was drenching Dick’s shirt. He seemed to be feeling it, too, judging by his full-body shiver. 

“Maybe we should listen to Jason,” Tim says.

“He’s got to do this,” Dick stresses. “He needs to talk to- to- this guy- so that we can figure out what’s going on with him. So that we can cure him.”

“Him being here is making his symptoms worse. I don’t think he needs to be here.”

“We can’t just go back,” Dick argues. “What if- what if this is what he needs?”

"Dick!” Jason begs. “Please!”

“No!” Dick snaps. “I can’t lose you again, Jason, I can’t-”

“You won’t lose him,” Tim insists. “We’ll figure this out some other way. We still have time.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Tim pulls a bluff. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Dick considers him reluctantly. Then he glances back at the man who’d answered the door. His expression twists painfully. He was having a battle in his head, and Tim couldn’t blame him for it. He cared for Jason. He cared a lot. He just wanted what was best for him. But at the moment, Tim didn’t think this was good for Jason, and Jason seemed to have enough clarity to remember something if he’d reacted so badly. 

“Look, I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” the man at the door voices, catching their attention, “but I’d like to talk to my son. Privately.”

Tim presses his lips together. Did the man, who was supposedly Jason’s father, not see him literally spilling slime down Dick’s pants?

“No,” Jason hyperventilates. “No, no, no, nononono.”

“Jay-” Dick tries.

“Get me out, Dick. I want out.”

Dick takes a hesitant step away from the door. Then, after a few more moments of thought, he turns away. He heads back for the parking lot, and Jason squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Wait-”

Jason’s father reaches out to grab at Dick.

Tim grabs his wrist.

“Don’t,” he warns.

Tim carefully observes the man’s reaction. He is not ignorant to the brief flash of anger in the man’s eyes. It sent warning bells off in Tim’s mind. 

Tim releases the man’s wrist. The dog that had been standing in the window was now at his feet, yapping at Tim, and Tim ignored them both to chase after his adopted brother.

“What was that Jason?” Dick asks from the driver’s seat. Jason had been insistent that they, quote, ‘get the hell out of here.’

Jason was better now that they were putting some distance between him and the apartment lot. He was actually sitting up, and his cheek was pressed against the window. Dick is patient as he waits for a reply, and Tim glances at the side mirror to check up on Jason behind him. 

“That was my dad,” Jason whispers. 

“Well, I guessed that,” Dick says, “but can we talk about your freak out?”

Jason doesn’t answer. Dick glances up at the rearview mirror worriedly, and then he roots his eyes on the road in front of them. The silence is incredibly awkward as they drive aimlessly, and Tim shrinks in on himself as it prevails.

Jason mercifully breaks the awkward atmosphere by asking, “Could we make a stop? Before we go back to the manor.”

Dick exhales through his nose in relief. 

“Yeah, of course Jason, where to?”

Jason picks his head up from the window. 

“Do you know where the cemetery is? The one a couple of blocks away?”

Tim could see the question show on Dick’s face, but thankfully he keeps it suppressed. He then, after swallowing, says, “Yeah, I know where that is, I think we passed it on the way here. We can stop if you want, Jason.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure, kid,” Dick hums, “Anytime.”

He shares a look with Tim. 

“We- um-” Dick looks back at the window. “Are we visiting someone you know?”

“I just need to make sure,” Jason mumbles. 

“Okay,” Dick says. He had no clue what Jason was talking about, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to get a direct answer. Jason’s eyes were hazed over, like he was somewhere distant, and he didn’t seem mentally prepared to have a heavy conversation. Dick got enough clues through the car ride, and so he mutely votes to give Jason his space. Tim wasn’t brave enough to try where Dick had failed, and so he, too, gives Jason his space. None of them speak as Dick drives them to the cemetery. Tim spends more time checking up on Jason in the side-view mirror than on the scenery that passes them by. 

When they pulled into the gate of the cemetery, Jason was already unbuckling himself, and before Dick could park the car Jason was hopping out. 

“Jason!” Dick scolds.

Tim wasn’t sticking around. He throws open the door to chase after Jason. It was surprising that he could walk now, Tim had no idea why, but it was awfully convenient for Jason in particular. He couldn’t have been faking his weakness earlier, surely, because Tim had seen how much of a struggle he’d had just picking himself up off the car seat.

“Tim!” Dick cries. He abruptly parks the car, throws his seat belt off, and flies out of his seat. Tim wasn’t paying attention to him. He was chasing after Jason. Tim feared Jason would get away from him. He might be a big man, but he was frighteningly fast. Tim was running out of breath. Much to his relief, Jason pauses in front of a tombstone, giving Tim the much needed extra time to close the distance. 

Jason falls to his knees. Tim is panting by the time he reaches him. He takes a moment to recover himself, vision wavering, as he tries to focus on Jason’s form. His eyes float to the tombstone. He squints to read the name.

Catherine Todd.

Jason bends over himself. He slams a fist in the dirt. Tim flinches as he yells   out a curse.

Dick jogs over to them. It doesn’t take him long to catch on. 

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Jason hollers. “It was his fault! He- If he hadn’t-! If he’d just called the ambulance- but no- he- he just watched her seize- and-”

Tim was putting the pieces together in his mind. Jason’s green slime soaks his clothes, pouring out into a puddle around him but Jason doesn’t seem to care. 

Cracked scales. Slime disease. Jason’s father. His mother. How do they all tie together? Think, Tim, think.

He had the clues. He had the keys. What else did he need?

“Then when she disappeared I just thought- I just- for days- I wondered what happened to her.”

“Jason,” Dick says. He covers his mouth. He was crying.

“She’s gone. She’s been gone for years. And-!”

His red scales creep up his forehead. 

Tim’s heart skips a beat.

Not again. He thinks back to his nanny. His back hurts.

“And he’s still living his life like- like she’s not even gone- and-”

Jason was stumbling over his words. His fingers squeeze at the grass on the ground. The dirt pushed up his blunt fingernails that happened to be growing into charcoal black claws.

Tim didn’t know what to do, and Dick didn’t either judging by the way he’d frozen. Knowing Dick, he would have swept in to hug Jason by now, asking for permission like he always did, and making things feel better if only for a second. Instead, he was emotionally stunned, rooted in place. Tim realizes that he can’t depend on Dick for everything, that even though he’s his new big brother that he shouldn’t wait around, and so he crouches down to put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. He squeezes it. 

He doesn’t know what to say, but he tries to speak anyway.

“Jason.” It’s a good start. “You need to calm down.”

Jason grits his teeth. His claws dig into the ground until they are fully submerged. It is a terrifying thing to see. They were so sharp.

“Jason, I know that you’re upset, but this isn’t the place to go wild. You- You have people who care for you and- and I care for you- and we don’t want to see you go like this. You need to stay strong.”

He was just blurting out what came to his mind. Something had to work. Something.

“I know you’re hurting. I get it. You weren’t expecting to see your dad there, were you? He wasn’t supposed to be the one welcoming you home. All this time, you’ve just been thinking about your mom, and-”

C’mon, think, think, think. Slime Disease. Scales. Mother. Father. Slime Disease. Scales. Mother. Father. Slime Disease-

Cracked scales, cracked scales, cracked-

“You didn’t know what happened to her. You just-”

Oh.

Tim breathes in deeply.

“You just wanted some closure.”

“Not just for you, but for your mom, and for your future.” Tim was more confident. Jason’s breath hitches. That was a good sign. He was on the right track.

Tim says, “ You probably didn’t know she’d even died, you probably didn’t even remember it, because otherwise this would’ve happened a whole lot sooner.”

Jason chokes out a sob. His frame shakes.

“Just give us some time, Jason,” Tim begs. “Give us some time to prove to you that this isn’t the end, and that we can give you the closure you’re looking for. We can take your dad to court, Bruce just freaking decimated my family to adopt me, so I’m sure it won’t be difficult to find enough on your father to make him pay for what he did to your mom.”

“You don’t even know what he did to her,” he moans.

“But he did do something, right? You wouldn’t be like this if he hadn’t.”

Jason presses his forehead to the ground. 

“You don’t get it, Tim. He’s my only family left. I won’t have anyone after he’s gone, as much as I loathe him, because nobody wants me.”

“I want you!” Dick bursts. “Jason, by the gods, do I want you!”

He slides onto his knees and pulls Jason up for a crushing embrace.

“It was painful seeing you pent up in a stall, which was essentially a prison , because we couldn’t help you. It hurt my heart. We tried- We tried so hard, Jason, but we couldn’t find any information on you. You never told us your last name, I know that was on purpose, you giant idiot, and we couldn’t find any matches on public records. Do you know how many Jasons are in Gotham?”

Dick shakes with another sob. Jason was stunned as Dick pressed his face into his neck. 

“And it’s all my fault that you’re this way- that you’ve had precious years taken away from you- when what I should have done is reach out to you.”

“It-” Jason croaks, “Dick- Why- Why would you think it’s your fault? You had nothing to do with this.”

“Jason,” Dick gasps out, breathless, “You’re my brother.”

Jason pushes against him.

“I’m- I’m not.”

“You’re my brother Jason, you always have been, in everything but name,” Dick says. “I was supposed to take care of you.”

Tim watches as Jason’s scales halt at his hairline. His nails, claws, stop growing.

“You weren’t obligated to take care of me,” Jason says. He wasn’t crying anymore, and Tim was pretty sure it was because Dick had shocked it out of him. His face was still a furious, puffy, red, but that wasn’t Jason’s most pressing concern.

“Family looks out for each other,” Dick says. “You’ve always been family, Jay, and dad wanted to prove that to you. He was- He was going to ask you if you had anyone to go home to. He was going to ask you if you wanted to live with him.”

Jason pulls back, successfully this time. Dick looks him in the eyes.

“He still wants to,” Dick says. “I know because I haven’t been avoiding him, like a certain someone.”

Jason raises a hand to wipe at his eyes. 

“But I’m disgusting,” Jason tries. “You don’t want someone like me. I’m a freak. I have nothing to give.”

“I don’t want anything Jason, I just want you,” Dick says.

Jason stares into Dick’s blue eyes. Tears were silently running down Dick’s face. 

“I want you, Jason,” Dick says resolutely.

Jason collapses against him. Dick catches him in a bone-crushing embrace.

They were dead tired when they got back to the manor.

Mr. Wayne- Bruce- was waiting for them on the end of the stairs. He’d been sitting on the last step with Damian rooted in his lap, happily chattering away about the app he was playing on his father’s phone. Cass was occupied next to him messing with a journal, erasing something she’d just written, only ceasing at the sound of their arrival.

Jason was holding onto his own arm, insecurely, when they walked in. He’d been the first one to enter. Dick was close behind him, and Tim made sure to lock the door. 

Jason couldn’t look Bruce in the eye. He only glanced at him, briefly, and timidly.

Bruce didn’t know what had happened, but the state of Jason was enough to give him a clue that something was up. He’d already been a little concerned when they’d decided to jet without warning, but now he looked increasingly worried over their return. The only reason he knew to wait for them was because Dick had texted that they would be home soon.

Bruce gently urged Damian off of his lap. Damian temporarily placed his father’s phone in Cass’ care before bolting for Dick. He flew for him. Dick, despite looking emotionally weary, didn’t hesitate. He caught him. He then hooked Damian on his hip, as if he belonged there, as if he wasn’t tired at all, and Tim could only admire the sacrifice Dick had to make to keep his family happy. 

He had the biggest heart out of all of them. 

“Where were you?” Bruce asks once he’s in front of them. Jason still couldn’t look him in the eyes.

Bruce looks over at Tim. 

“We visited someone,” Tim says. He wasn’t sure if Jason wanted him to expose everything in the entryway surrounded by a bunch of people.

“Ah,” Bruce says skeptically. He gives Jason another look-over.

Jason sighs. He wills himself to look up. “Look,” he starts, “Don’t blame them. They were just trying to he- hmpf!”

Jason freezes as Bruce pulls him in. Two arms wrap around him securely. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bruce sighs. “I was scared.”

Jason glances over at Dick who gives him a tired smile.

Jason’s hands stayed at his side, but Bruce didn’t seem to mind. He squeezes Jason, keeps him in his hold for a little longer, and then releases him with an affectionate pat on his arm. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Jason,” he whispers.

Cass stands up from the stairwell. She observes them quietly.

Jason, is once again, timid as he looks Bruce in the eye.

“I don’t know where to start."

Chapter Text

“I thought we were okay.”

“Mom used to drink a lot, she'd forget a lot of things, but it wasn’t too bad."

“I didn’t really understand what was going on. I didn’t realize that she was drinking to cope for something.”

“When I first saw her on the floor, with bruises on her neck, I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that my mom was hurt, and that she was shaking, seizing.”

“Jason?”

Catherine Todd, in a rare moment of soberness, beckons her son over. Jason, who would rather be doing other things, grumbles. He was planning on going out like he usually did, to get away from things, but his mother had other plans.

“Jason,” Catherine whispers. He stands in front of her, legs inches away from her own, as she captures his hands in hers. She looks up at him from the kitchen chair she was sitting on. She squeezes his hands with a small, wobbly smile. “Jason, you know I love you, right?”

Jason inwardly scoffs. His mother knew how to speak, but she didn’t know how to act. He’d never felt any love from her, not really, not in the last fifteen years. 

“I just want you to know something,” his mother says. “I want you to remember that I loved you. Okay? I want you to remember that I would’ve changed things if I could. Get off the drink. Take you away. Could you do that? Remember me as something good?”

Jason eyes her skeptically. “What’s this all about?”

She squeezes his hands again.

“Could you do that?” She repeats.

Jason hesitates. “Ma, what are you on about?”

Her face falls. She releases his hands after a quiet exhale. 

“I’m sorry Jason,” she says. She wipes a hand over her eyes. “I don’t know what’s come over me. Just- Just be safe. Okay?”

Jason raises a brow. Slowly, he states, “Always.”

“I always used to run away. Tried to get away from the problems.”

The ambulance woke the entire neighborhood. Jason couldn’t give a damn about all of the neighbors sticking their noses out. He was too busy watching the paramedics take his mother away. He was watching her convulse again on the stretcher, and it was a horrifying sight. He’d never seen her so bad. He’d never seen her shake in such a wretched way. 

She might be shaking, she might be contorting wildly, but Jason saw the bruises on her neck. He turns to look at his father. He gives him a good look, a real good look, searching for something. His father stands in the doorway. He might be aware of Jason’s scrutiny, but he wasn’t returning the favor. He was looking off at the horizon, not even at the damn ambulance where they were taking away his wife, with a far away look in his eyes. 

Jason spends the rest of the night thinking about his mom. Two days later, they get the call, and he feels detached.

Jason hadn’t been too close to his mom. He wasn’t surprised that he didn’t feel a lot. 

It was still messed up though, knowing what his dad did, knowing what he could do to him if he decided to snap. Jason tries to avoid him as best as he can. It’s a scary prospect. He was living with a strangler, but hopefully the cops would come around shortly. Hopefully they’d lock his mother’s killer away.

They don’t.

Jason spends too much time living in fear. He tries to get out of the house any chance he can get, rarely returning home, staying out as late as possible. His father is unpredictable.

One night, when the clock was nearing one in the morning, Jason slipped back into his home. He quietly creeps into what was supposed to be a safe place to sleep, a place he shouldn’t have to worry about, but he can’t let his guard down. His father comes out of the dark waiting, like a creep, hands diving for Jason’s neck. 

Jason wrestles. He bites, kicks, and punches. His dad is a big man, but Jason is bigger. He’d been punching street thugs since he was six while his father had been sitting on the couch. Jason wrangles himself free, darts out of the house, and runs.

He runs, runs, and runs. 

“Didn’t know where I was going.”

He has a lot of time to think. He’s homeless now. He’s got a lot to worry about, not that it was unfamiliar to him, because Jason always wondered when he’d get his next meal. Shelter was just an extra need to care about, something he could work around, something he could manage.

“Didn’t see how messed up it was. I was just shocked, I guess.”

He has too much time to think.

“I kept thinking about my mom’s words. That’s when I started remembering things.”

Jason’s memory returns in bits and pieces. He can remember his mother sweeping him up in her arms. He can remember not caring about a lot, running around at a young age, thinking about how wonderful his mom was. He remembers crawling up into her lap, he remembers her reading him bedtime stories, brushing fingers through his hair. 

“I realized my dad took that away from me. It was his fault that my mom was drinking. He must have been abusing her for a long time. I just- I just never noticed.”

His mind was on other things. His mother hadn’t been a priority until the day she died.

“I felt so guilty . I felt so lost. My only chance at a family- ruined- and I thought about it constantly. I couldn’t do anything without thinking about her.”

He remembers her smiling.

“Hey, man. You okay?”

Jason curls in on himself in an alleyway. Three concerned citizens, all a mix of nationalities, show up behind him. The man who had spoken to him puts a hand on his shoulder for a brief second, but when Jason chokes out a sob, his hand flies away.

“Dude! You- You don’t want to do this!”

Jason didn’t know what he was talking about until he looks at his hands. 

Red. Scales. 

Oh.

He glances over his shoulder. 

I deserve this.

“Need anything else?”

Tim watches as Alfred bends down low to whisper. Bruce looks up at him from his spot on the couch, shifting only slightly to get himself comfortable, and after a moment’s thought he shakes his head mutely. 

Bruce threads his fingers through Jason’s hair, tucking him into his shoulder, staring out into the fireplace in reflection. He had a lot to think about, and so did Tim, and Dick, and Cass.

“Master Tim,” Alfred greets. Tim considers him shyly. He hadn’t spoken much to Alfred in the past few months, but he might as well start getting used to him. Alfred was practically a member of the family which meant Tim would have to associate with him in the future. Tim might be adopted, he might have a family now, but that didn’t mean he was magically close to everyone. That would take time. The only people he felt comfortable around was Dick, and the boy who’d passed out on his lap. 

Tim accepts Alfred’s offering. He tugs at the folded blanket, unwraps it over himself, and tucks Damian in neatly. Damian was knocked out on his chest. Tim could feel a puddle of drool building up over his heart, but he didn’t have the will to wake Damian up. He’d just have to deal with the consequences at a later time. 

Tim glances back over at Bruce.

One good thing had come from Jason telling his story, and that was the fact that he’d stopped regressing. He still looked like a half formed dragon, even sprouting little nubs at his back for potential wings, but it’d stopped for the time being. 

They all knew what they had to do next. 

They had to deal with Jason’s father.

Tim leans his head back on the recliner he was sitting in. He rolls his head to the right to see Dick whispering in the corner. Cass leans against the wall as they discuss plans. They were already making arrangements, looking unhappy whilst doing so, and Tim could only think how Jason didn’t know how he’d gotten lucky associating himself with this family of all people. Jason might be in a very different position right now if he’d been in any other sanctuary, or if he’d never met Bruce to begin with.

Tim feels Damian shift on his chest. He mumbles something in his sleep, and his fingers twitch over Tim’s stomach. 

“Guys, I had what people call an epiphany last night,” Duke announces. 

They sit around the library table, their regular meeting place, laptop open in front of Tim as it usually was. They spent their time together mostly discussing the cases of the residents in the sanctuary, but it wasn’t strange for them to occasionally get off track.

“What?” Jason grumps.

He was their latest addition.

It was good that Jason was hanging around them. Bruce didn’t want him knowing too much about the court case until after it was over with. That meant that he needed to be distracted in the meantime. His new interest in contributing to their group was beneficial in that way. It took Jason’s mind off of his problems. 

“Why do we call them cursed?”

Tim’s eyes search over the notes they’d compiled over the past few days on theories. They all related on how to help their residents. Duke doesn’t take any offense. He was happy enough with Jason’s attention. 

“I mean, I know they turn into magical beasts, but have we ever thought to look at it scientifically?”

“Yes,” Tim answers, looking up from his laptop briefly. “There’s several research papers focused on the topic. Nothing concrete.”

Duke leans back in his chair.

“No, no, no,” He interupts. “You’re not catching on my drift, Timmy old boy, I’m thinking in scientific terms.”

Tim blinks. Not only had Duke called him something strange, but he’d also repeated the same statement. 

“Here’s what I’m saying,” Duke says. He leans forward. “Sure, people can turn when they go through a particularly emotional time, but what if it’s not just that?”

Duke interlocks his fingers.

“What if,” he says, looking Tim straight in the eye, strangely serious, “it’s a virus?”

Tim tilts his head.

“Just think about it,” Duke says. “People didn’t immediately go rogue after Mr. Wayne was cursed. It was a gradual process. I bet you could find a correlation between people who visited him, and people who stayed far away from him.”

Tim entertains the idea. “Okay. That’s interesting. Let’s say it is some kind of magical virus.” He closes his laptop monitor. He settles his elbows on each side of his laptop, and rests his chin on the palm of his right hand. “How would we go about eliminating it?”

Duke shrugs. “I imagine it wouldn’t work like a traditional virus. Immunity isn’t really a thing. There’s no vaccines.”

“But we can eradicate it,” Tim theorizes. “Diseases never go away, but they can be snuffled into oblivion.”

Jason pipes in, “Have you ever heard of the miasma theory?”

Cass removes her eyes from her phone. 

“Bad air,” she says.

“Bad air,” Jason agrees excitedly. Tim likes seeing him this way. It’s nice having Jason get passionate about something. “What if-” he swallows, and continues, “What if it’s not just the people. What if it’s the environment? There’s a reason it would’ve started in Gotham.”

“That,” Tim starts. 

He pauses.

“That could be possible. So, what you’re saying, is that if we focus on cleaning up Gotham…?”

“It’ll be like a science experiment,” Jason says. “We draw conclusions based on the results. Just think about the Black Plague. It didn’t come just out of nowhere. In fact, it’d been reported about in the past, which is-”

“That’s how these creatures are known to begin with-” Duke puts in a rush, eyes wide in just as much excitement, “Because they weren’t just stories. This happened to people before and that’s why we have all of these mystical creatures. That’s how we already knew about unicorns, dragons, and-”

“And just think about how London became a place where the Black Plague could thrive. The filth, the waste, was the perfect breeding ground for a record-breaking amount of plague cases. I mean, I know it’s still around today, it’ll always be around, just like the curse, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be.”

“So we clean up Gotham,” Duke puts in. “We clean up Gotham and-”

“That could take years,” Tim says.

“Not if we get the whole city on board. Aware,” Jason insists.

“So what? We clean up litter? That’ll make the cases go down?”

“It’s not just litter Tim, it’s crime,” Jason says. “We educate people. We give them the opportunity to choose.”

“What if they decide they don’t care?”

Jason shrugs. “Then that’s their choice.”

Tim quirks a brow.

“But think about the people that do care. They’ll find others who care, they’ll band together, and they’ll do something to help themselves. We’ll give them a fighting chance. They’ll clean up their neighborhood, and that’ll be one less place to worry about. It’d be worth it. Just for them.”

“Again, that could take years.”

Jason adopts a solemn attitude.

“So be it."

Chapter Text

Tim listens to the basketball pop against the pavement. There was something entrancing about the noise, it’d explain why Tim had been dribbling the ball for the past five minutes. He’d never been too interested in basketball, he never had anyone to play the game with, but Duke had gotten him hooked. There was something strangely satisfying about shooting a hoop, bouncing the ball, and catching it in his hands. Tim found it meditative. 

The breeze was perfect, the sun wasn’t as unforgiving as it had been in the afternoon, and Tim was overall refreshed. 

Tim stops dribbling the ball. He holds it up in his hands, focuses on the basketball hoop, and then he shoots. He follows the basketball through the air with his eyes. The basketball hits the red square painted in the middle of the board, and then bounces slightly forward into the rim. Tim hisses in victory as the basketball thunks through the net. He jogs to reach the basketball before it can bounce off the court, and then he turns to return to his original location. He halts before he can get too far. 

“Let me try.”

Tim stares at his adopted father for about two seconds before realizing he ought to permit his request. He passes the basketball to Bruce, and Bruce catches it with ease. Tim watches as he lines the basketball in line with the hoop. Bruce squints his eyes in concentration. Finally, after assessing his shot, he pops the ball out of his hands. Tim watches as the basketball goes straight through the net without hitting the rim.

Tim catches the ball.

“Nice,” he comments.

Bruce holds his hands up in a silent gesture. Tim tosses him the ball again. He watches as Bruce dribbles the basketball against the concrete beneath them.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Bruce says. “I know you’re a good kid, Tim, but now you’re not just a kid. You’re my son. I want to learn more about you.”

Tim’s eyes stop following the ball. He roots his attention on his adopted father.

“So!” Bruce pops the ball up into the air. Tim removes his eyes to see the basketball flawlessly fall through the net, once again. “Tell me about yourself.”

Tim bends down to capture the basketball. 

“Um,” he sounds, uncertain, clutching the ball between two hands, “What do you want to know?”

Bruce hums.

“What are your goals in life? Your aspirations?”

Tim looks down at the ball between his hands. 

“Uh,” he laughs sheepishly. “I’m kind of living it?”

He looks back up. He starts to dribble the ball.

“I spent a lot of time looking into the cursed after my nanny got turned.” Tim gauges Bruce’s reaction. He’s interested to note his adopted father’s displeased expression. He continues, continuously observant, “I started looking into sanctuaries. I learned about the housing situation for most sanctuaries, and how they take care of sheltering you if you are under their employment. I started entertaining the idea of moving out.”

Tim stops dribbling. 

“After my nanny turned, I started throwing myself into books to cope with the, um, incident.”

Tim feels a phantom pain in his back. He suppresses a shiver.

“I really liked reading about mysteries.”

Tim passes the ball to Bruce. Bruce catches it in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting it, it seemed.

“So, aside from getting out of the house, I liked the idea of solving cases for the rest of my life.” Tim offers Bruce a lopsided smile. “That’s when I started looking into you.”

Bruce spins the ball in his hands. 

“Your sanctuary was the most humane. I also, um, kind of,” Tim blushes. “Idolized you?” Tim swallows nervously. He blurts out, “Sorry. I’m terrible at this.”

“No, no, I’m interested,” Bruce says with a smile. “You said you idolized me?”

Tim feels red in the face. “Yeah,” he admits. “I came across your case when looking into my nanny’s problem. I was interested to see that- well- you solved your own problem. It inspired me to put myself into therapy. I think I would have turned if I hadn’t.”

“I didn’t necessarily solve my own case,” Bruce says. “I had a lot of help.” He looks down at the ground in recollection. “Dick helped me. Immensely. And Alfred, good heavens, I’d be lost without him.”

Bruce smiles in fond remembrance. 

“It’s strange,” he thinks aloud. “It’s so easy to forget. I was so caught up in the present, that I forgot about important lessons that I learned in the past, and I don’t think I would have ever recognized that if you hadn’t come along.”

“What?”

“You helped my family, Tim,” Bruce says. “You helped me remember the importance of being there for each other, even when it’s hard, or even when it hurts. I just don’t think it’s our natural reaction, as human beings, to turn outward when we’re in pain.”

Bruce starts dribbling the ball again.

“I’m not perfect,” he admits. “I’m forgetful. I make promises to myself, but I’m not good at keeping commitments. I have to be reminded that I have a family to back me up. Even if we squabble sometimes, and even if we stand at odds, I know I can count on them for support. I don’t expect them to tolerate my poor behavior, but the fact that they’ve stuck with me this long, forgiving me time after time, just goes to show that I’m not a lost cause.”

Bruce smiles.

“I can’t say I won’t have to relearn this lesson in the future, but that’s the thing about family. They’ll help you remember. Even if I don’t appreciate it at times.”

“That-” Tim feels stunned. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

Bruce quirks a brow. He hops, shoots the ball, and watches it fall through the net.

“You do know that includes you?”

Tim bends down to grab the ball again.

“What do you mean?” Tim questions.

“I mean ,” Bruce chuckles, “that you’re family.”

It finally hits Tim.

It was over.

His life living alone, scared, and neglected was an important part of him. He’d always look back at the kid he used to be, the kid who just wanted love. Tim would remember him with compassion, but now he was living their childish dream. He had a family that could teach him about forgiveness, unconditional love, and more. He knew it wouldn’t be entirely fantastical, that he wouldn’t live a life devoid of bumps, but he had a chance to find a place where he belonged. He wouldn’t have to worry about being rejected, discarded, or removed. 

“Uh-” Tim stutters. The ball slips from his hands. “I-”

He takes in a breath.

“Can I hug you?”

Bruce seemed a little off put at the request. Tim immediately regrets asking, but after a second of silence his adopted father opens up his arms.

Tim walks over to him feeling small, meek, and vulnerable. He carefully wraps his arms around his father’s middle, feeling incredibly awkward, and weird. It was strange hugging his boss turned dad, and Tim couldn’t remember why he wanted a hug in the first place, but it was nice to feel his father return the gesture. He didn’t have the same reservations Tim seemed to have. He grabs at Tim with a firm grip, tugging him in tighter, and squeezes him in the protective embrace of a father. 

“That’s sappy,” Jason gags.

Dick glances at his right to see Jason peering out the window in great interest. He might pretend he was grossed out, but Dick could see Jason struggling to keep a smile off of his face. 

Dick was glad that Tim seemed to be hitting it off with their dad. He wanted Tim to feel comfortable. He knew that adjusting to the family wouldn’t be easy. Dick wanted to help him feel like a member of the family as soon as possible. That’s why he was proud of his dad for reaching out. 

“C’mere man,” Duke sounds from behind Jason. He sniffs dramatically as he tugs him in for a hug.

Jason squawks. “Dude, I know you’ve got something loose up there, but what the hell?”

Dick watches Duke trap Jason into an awkward strangling hug. 

He feels a burst of love in his heart. 

“You guys,” Dick whines as he throws himself at them.

“Wait-!” Jason yelps.

“I’m home,” Stephanie sighs aloud. 

She drags herself into the kitchen, and drops her backpack down on the floor. For some reason, she was expecting silence, which was why she was greatly surprised to see Barbara standing at the stove.

“Welcome home,” Barbara says.

Stephanie stares, astonished.

Barbara turns away from stirring a pot of pasta. 

“Something wrong?”

Stephanie knew she’d been living with Barbara for a while now, a couple of months at least, but for some reason she was stunned.

Because, after some time, it finally gets to her.

As a little girl, Stephanie remembered busting into her home, yelling out for someone to hear her. She remembered getting disappointed when no one answered. She remembered disappearing into her room, sitting alone, hugging a pillow close to her chest. Lonely, sad, and dejected.

“No,” Stephanie realizes aloud. “Nothing is wrong.”

She slowly sits herself down on a kitchen chair. Staring.

“I’m sorry, Babs,” she says suddenly.

Barbara tilts her head. “Stephanie?”

“I’m sorry for being so- so difficult,” Stephanie says. “I know that I wasn’t the best to you. You didn’t deserve all that hate. I just- I was stressed and-”

Barbara unties her apron. Stephanie barely has any time to prepare herself as Barbara grabs her cheeks, lifts her face, and presses a firm kiss against her forehead.

Stephanie’s cheeks adopt a pink tint. 

“Stephanie, I understand,” Barbara says as she pulls back. She looks down at her fondly. “I see you. I hear you.”

Stephanie searches her eyes.

“You’re telling the truth,” she realizes. “You’ve been telling the truth this entire time. You want me.”

“I want you,” Barbara confirms.

Stephanie lunges for her. 

Cass carefully picks the twigs out of Damian’s hair as he blabbers on about a cartoon he had watched the day previous. Cass was only half-listening as she fixated on his terribly mussy hair. He might not be a foal anymore, but he certainly kept some strange habits. Cass had been bewildered to find him rolling around in the mud outside.

Alfred floats around in the room with a cup of tea in his hand, only stopping briefly to gaze out the window. 

It was an overall domestic scene, added to by the entrance of her newest family member, accompanied by their father.

Damian turns on the floor, sitting in front of Cass, to spot them. Cass barely has any time to get the last twig out of his hair as he shoots up in his spot. 

“Daddy!” Damian sings happily. He hops over to him like a leaping hare. “Guess what I’m going to do?”

Bruce looks down at him. He quirks a brow.

“Take a bath?”

Damian adopts an offended look.

“No,” he huffs. 

“Then what were you going to do?” Bruce asks in humor.

Damian crosses his arms with a frown. He looks away.

“I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Bruce hums in acknowledgment. “Oh. Do you want me to guess?”

Cass watches Bruce pretend to ponder. Tim removes himself from his side, and sits himself down on one of the couches. 

“Let me think,” Bruce continues to hum. “Were you going to say I love you?”

Damian stubbornly keeps his eyes rooted at the wall. 

“Were you going to ask for a kiss?” 

Bruce sweeps him up. Damian squeaks as his father presses a sloppy kiss against his cheek. 

“Daddy,” Damian complains as he pushes away.

“Were you going to ask for a hug?” Bruce teases. He tugs Damian back into his arms, and squeezes him tight. Damian cackles in delighted laughter, quickly forgetting his anger.

“No?” Bruce asks as he pulls away. “What else could you have wanted to do? Did you want me to tickle you?”

Damian watches as his father lifts up a hand. He flexes his finger, slowly stretching out his hand until it is floating only a couple of inches away, leaving Damian breathless in anticipation. They stay silent for a few seconds, Bruce once again flexing his fingers experimentally, until finally he dives in for an attack. Damian squeals in a fit of giggles, pushing at his father’s chest, trying to save himself from his father’s fit of affection.

Cass picks herself up off the ground. She smiles as she takes in the scene, remembering a much more sullen Bruce hiding away in his office, and a cursed pegasus trotting in an eternal search.

Cass makes her way around the living room, but not before stopping to give Tim a head ruffle.

“What the-” Tim splutters in confusion.

Cass exits the room with a quiet laugh.

Chapter Text

Bruce lowers his cellphone. He gazes outside the office window, eyes tracing his greatest accomplishment. Had he not created the sanctuary, Bruce was certain he wouldn’t have the opportunity to expand his small family. Tim would have never signed up for employment, Bruce never would have met him, Damian would have stayed a pegasus, Jason would most likely be in a different sanctuary, and Stephanie would still be a giant griffin. He owed much to Tim. Bruce would spend the rest of his life returning the favor. Tim deserved to have a family. Bruce would try his best to give him exactly that.

Bruce doesn’t look away from the sanctuary when he hears a knock on the door. “Come in,” he invites, vision narrowing in on the distant outline of his eldest son working in the sun.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greets upon entry. He approaches the desk. It is the sound of rustling papers that grab Bruce’s attention. He looks away from the window, glances downward, and eyes a stack of forms. 

Bruce considers the sight warily. There was nothing wrong with the stack of forms, but his own emotions were getting the best of him. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Alfred hums in acknowledgment, taking a step back. He clasps his hands behind him. He makes no further movements. His stance suggested he would not leave. 

Bruce looks over the black print on the paperwork. 

He might as well call them what they really are. 

Adoption papers.

“Alfred, could you please find Jason, and see how he's doing?"

“Of course, Master Bruce,” Alfred agrees. 

Alfred turns around. He exits the office with a swift pace. Bruce returns his gaze back to the sanctuary. He might not show it outwardly, but he was quite nervous. It had been the same with Dick, with Tim, and with Cass. It never got old. There was the slightest chance that Jason might decline the offer of adoption, and Bruce feared the possible rejection. Jason might be a young adult now, he legally could set off if he wanted to, but Bruce didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved a family.

Bruce’s cell phone rings. 

He looks at the flashing caller ID for a pause. Finally, after two rings, he answers. He brings the phone up to his ear. 

“Mr. Wayne. I do believe you will be interested in learning of Mr. Todd’s verdict.”

Dick kicks his boots off at the door. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, and then he wipes the sweat off his brow. Duke had taken the day off. That meant Dick had to spend a majority of the day catching up with Duke’s duties. While Dick was already familiar with what he needed to do, that didn’t make the work any less taxing. He was exhausted. He was making plans to head straight to his room, but before he can take a step in the direction of the staircase, he hears a delighted shout.

Dick blinks curiously as Jason bursts out from the corridor. He was accompanied by an overly-excited Damian. Damian was squealing in glee, clapping eagerly. He was followed by a silent, yet amused, Cass. Her lips were turned upward in a smile. 

Jason takes one look down the stairs, and his face explodes with light. He was glowing. Dick had never seen him so happy before. 

“Dick!” Jason cries out in joy. Dick takes one good look at him, and then he comes to a startling realization.

Jason hops on the railing of the staircase, slides down the wood as if he were an adventurous child, and then he leaps off the end. Dick has no time to prepare himself as Jason grabs his arms. Jason shakes him.

“Dick! Look at me!”

Dick is looking at him.

Jason is noticeably lacking in draconic features. His scales were gone. He didn’t have long fingernails. His hair was a deep black instead of a vibrant red. 

Dick had to admit he was a tad jarred by Jason’s appearance. He’d adjusted to Jason carrying inhuman qualities, but now Jason was sporting an entirely different image. 

“Jason?” Dick questions, astonished. 

“I’m handsome!” Jason announces.

Dick raises his brows.

Damian, who was still standing on the top of the stairs, smiles real big. Cass plops a hand on Damian’s head. 

“Jason. You’re cured,” Dick observes. He was momentarily stunned. For good reason, too.

“I know!” Jason laughs in delight. “I know!”

“Jason,” Dick repeats, “You’re cured!”

“I know!”

Dick smacks Jason’s hands off of his shoulders. He then wraps his arms around Jason, and excitedly lifts him up off the ground. “You’re cured!”

Something must have happened to Jason’s father, Dick realizes, but that information wasn’t his main focus. Jason was happy. Jason was happy, and Dick hadn’t seen him so happy before. 

“Jason! You look amazing!” Dick cries. 

“I do!” Jason agrees. Dick doesn’t make a quip for it. Usually, he’d tease about humility, but that didn’t matter. Jason was happy, he was cured, and what else mattered in the world? Dick’s physical fatigue completely slips from him. His heart was whole with joy, swollen in love, and filled with affection for the man he was holding. Jason deserved this. He deserved to be happy. 

“You’re beautiful, Jay!”

“I am!”

Dick sets Jason back on the floor. He hugs him in a crushing embrace, and Jason returns the gesture. Jason might not be cursed anymore, but the way he held Dick, with a monstrous strength, would suggest he maintained certain qualities. Dick knew he was just analyzing something that wasn’t there, however, attributing Jason’s emotionally-driven strength to something he had no association with. Not anymore. His strength was now entirely human. 

Dick wasn’t intent on letting Jason go, but Jason tears himself from Dick’s arms. 

“Damian!” Jason barks. “Get down here!”

Damian flies down the stairs the instant Jason calls for him. 

Cass wasn’t too far behind, but she took her time stepping down.

Damian, on the other hand, was a burst of energy. He leaps into Jason’s arms. Jason catches him with a giant grin. He lifts Damian up into the air, and then pops him up.

Damian squeals in joy as Jason catches him. Cass settles herself next to Dick. Dick, who couldn’t restrain himself, wraps an arm around her shoulders. He squeezes her into his side. Cass wraps an arm around his back. 

“What’s going on?” Tim’s groggy voice joins. He drags himself out of the hallway, and then slowly makes his way down the stairs. Judging by the width of his eyes, he’d just woken up from a nap, most likely having been roused by the celebration.

Tim rubs his eyes. He stops at the bottom step when he finally registers Jason’s appearance.

Tim is shocked into a frozen position. His eyes widened a fraction.

Jason settles Damian on the floor. Tim has no warning. Jason closes the distance between them, and then he gathers Tim up into his arms. Just like Dick had done to Jason, Jason lifts Tim a few inches off the ground. Tim squawks.

“Jason? Your face!’

The dining room was bursting with laughter,  joy, and sound. Bruce closes in on the noise, intent on eating dinner with his family, only to find chaos. He stands in the doorway with some confusion, noticing an extra addition of guests. Stephanie would be joining their family meal, it seemed, as would Barbara. Something was off about Stephanie though. She might be smiling, her face might be a radiant beam, but there was something missing. 

She was missing her feathers.

Stephanie wasn’t the only one missing something. Bruce’s eyes dart to Jason. Jason had Duke hooked in the crook of his elbow. He was tucking Duke’s head into his side with a bright laugh, and Duke in turn was in the middle of his own fit. He was on the edge of his chair because of Jason’s restricting hold. 

“Dad!” Dick calls out in joy. “Sit down!”

Bruce can’t remember a time where Dick had been this happy to see him. 

Bruce passes Alfred on his way to the head of the table. Alfred was smiling, quiet in his merriment. 

“What is going on?” Bruce finds himself asking. Why was Jason different? What had happened? 

“Jason is cured,” Tim explains.

Bruce tries to understand exactly what such a thing entailed. It was clear that Jason’s problem had involved his father, and bringing justice to his mother, but Bruce hadn’t involved Jason in any of the court proceedings. Jason wasn’t even aware that they were going on. Had the curse somehow identified that his father was proven guilty? That couldn’t be all it took, right? Stephanie hadn’t been cured through just the signing of adoption papers, so shouldn’t it be the same for Jason? 

“This is great!” Duke laughs loudly. “This is like a giant family celebration, or something!”

Jason doesn’t even pause. “Yeah!” 

“I’ve got new brothers!” Damian cheers.

Bruce was so confused.

Dick looks over to Bruce with a big smile. “C’mon, Bruce! It’s a given! Jason is one of us now! When are you going to adopt him?”

“Yeah!” Jason cries. “When are you going to adopt me?”

Bruce cannot be more floored than he was at Jason’s statement. He feels a spark of hope in his heart. “You wouldn’t mind?” 

“Who the hell would?” Jason says. Bruce can see Jason’s eyes filling with unshed tears. “I was going to give up, you know? I was going to throw it all away. I kept saying I wouldn’t mind becoming a dragon again. I thought I wouldn’t mind having everything taken from me, protecting myself from hurting through forgetting. Becoming some kind of mindless beast. But-” Jason releases Duke. “No one gave up on me. You guys kept trying and- and look at me now. I’m human. I’m human and-- I’m here.”

“I don’t understand. How-?” Bruce questions. 

“He got the closure he needed,” Tim says with a shrug. It was as if Tim himself wasn’t entirely certain as to how Jason had reverted back into human form.

Bruce supposed that wasn’t the biggest concern at the moment.

Bruce looks down at the table. He covers his eyes with a hand.

“Aw, Dad,” Dick notices. 

Bruce lets the tears leak.

Tim fell asleep with a full stomach, and a huge smile on his face.

The next morning was routine. Tim wakes up, not at all surprised to find out Damian had snuck into his bed again, carefully avoiding the smaller form to prepare for his day. He slips out of bed, changes his clothes into something suitable for labor, and then creeps out of his room. Once he was in the hallway, he relaxes. He travels the normal route down the stairs, outside, and then into the sanctuary. 

He heads straight for the shed, but before he can get there, he feels a hand clap against his shoulder.

Tim turns. 

“Hey, man!” Duke says. “Are you ready for a new day?”

Tim cracks a lopsided smile.

“You bet.”

The next few months pass in the blink of an eye. Tim does his best to attend to his duties at the sanctuary. He learns to get used to having a family that welcomes him home, a butler that (who might as well be his grandfather) takes care of his needs, and a group of extended family (friends) that ask for his time. 

Having a family came with a different set of problems Tim never thought he would have to deal with, like bickering, and squabbling. Sometimes he found himself frustrated with his adopted father, or Jason, and even Dick. His patience was thin after a long day laboring out in the sun, which meant that Damian’s invasion of his space got a little irritating, only added onto when the Precursors demanded his attention. 

But, Tim decides, that was okay. 

Tim learns rather quickly that having a family didn’t mean all of his childhood woes, and problems, would be healed immediately. There were still times that he had nightmares, always involving his nanny in some way or other, often accompanied by a correlating pain in his back. Those nights were the hardest to deal with, but unlike the past, Tim didn’t have to be alone. He would frequently find himself in the company of Dick, who took no time hesitating to give Tim his time. Jason soon became a constant in his life, too, giving Tim support without having been asked. 

Jason was his brother now, and he made sure to act like it. While he favored acting like a total dunderhead at times, driving people up the wall, he was an amazing force of good. Not only did he reach out to his siblings, but he reached out to his old community. With Bruce’s help, Jason was beginning the process of setting up his own organization, focusing primarily on the clean up of impoverished neighborhoods. Jason valued Tim’s thoughts on the subject, often turning to him for a second opinion. While they might not entirely agree on certain subjects, they held a respect for each other. They could disagree without being disagreeable. It was amazing.

Tim’s relationship with his other siblings were not too different. Tim appreciated each of them. He admired them. Damian taught Tim that it was okay for things to be simple. Dick taught Tim that he was valuable. Cass taught him that actions spoke louder than words. They had individual strengths that the family needed, and Tim quickly recognized that. Nothing would be the same if even one of them were removed. 

That was the thing about family, Tim understands with fondness.

Everyone belonged.