Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason Peter Todd is not a simple man when it comes to vocabulary. Sure, he doesn’t speak in sentences where the minimum number of syllables per word is three, like Damian. Or casually use long-ass scientific terms like Tim, but his vocabulary was far from simple. He was a man of literature. Growing up he prided himself on being on top in literacy whether to prove to Gotham elites he was more than a ‘street rat’ or for his own enjoyment. The latter of the two being the main cause for his extensive time reading. Hey. What was the library at Wayne Manor for, other than to read every book he could get his hands on?

He enjoys plays and was one for the dramatics, all the Bats were. Though, his dramatics were more about meaning rather than flashy acts. Flashy acts were more Dick’s style, with his array of tricks and past in the show-bus. He adores books and the worlds their words create, even if his outer appearance would tell you otherwise. So, no. Jason Peter Todd was not a man of shortened dialect, books insuring that fact. However, if Jason could explain the current situation he found himself in, and his current feelings towards it in one word, it would be-

“Fuck.”

It was far from poetic. His wording wouldn’t win any prizes for meaning or inspiration, but he really couldn’t give a shit.

When he had woken-up from whatever had happened beforehand, he had found himself face down on the cold, damp concrete floor of one of Gotham Harbour’s many warehouses. His limbs ached and he could feel a good-sized bruise forming right above his sternum. As he moved his head to the side to lay his cheek on the concrete instead of his nose (where the fuck was his helmet) he could feel the dull ache at the back of his head most likely caused by whatever object knocked him out.

What the fuck happened?

It was supposed to be a simple drug bust. In and out. Shut down a new upstart gang before it became a problem. And they did. Him and Dick had won the fight with little to no struggle having tied up the gang members once done. Thankfully, during his forced upon nap, the gang members hadn’t gotten away, his current line of sight allowing him to see them still tied up, out cold near some crates in a corner of the warehouse. Dick would be happy to know that- wait. Where was Dick?

Quickly, Jason lifted his head, ready to push himself up to find Goldie. No fucking way Mr. Dick “saviour complex” Grayson would leave him in a crummy warehouse knocked out near Gotham fucking Harbour. And if that was the case, Jason was going to give him some choice words and possibly fists.

His sudden head movement had been a mistake. As soon as he lifted his head, he brought it back down to the concrete beneath him. The world around him blended and blurred has the dull ache from before had amplified at the back of his skull. So maybe his plan to find Dick would have to be done slower than he’d liked, because he defiantly had a minor concussion and as much as the Demon Spawn would beg to differ, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he shouldn’t go storming around with a forming head injury. He’ll get it properly checked out once he’s back at the Batcave or whatever. Right now he needed to figure out where in this shitty warehouse Goldie was, without instantly turning the world upside-down. Yep. This situation was defiantly fucked.

“Hood!”

It took every bit of self-control Jason had to not lift his head to see the source of the voice. He lay on the concrete, which at this point he should deem his new best friend with the amount of time they’ve spent together, and waited for whoever found him to approach where he lay. Soon his view was blocked with black. His first thought was Bruce, and wouldn’t that just be delightful, but he barely heard the person approaching. Yes, Batman was known for his stealth, but you live with the man for a few years and it gets easier to pick up on his footsteps. Or perhaps Jason’s just out of it. A head injury would to that to you. However, further evidence that would suggest the person in front of him wasn’t Bruce was the fact this person was way too small. Unless Bruce had miraculously shrunk and lost muscle mass during Jason’s unconsciousness, there was only one person he could think of to whom would be standing in his current line of sight.

Cassandra Cain lowered to her knees full-face mask usually worn with her Black Bat get up discarded to the side revealing her face. Her brows were furrowed with worry as she lifted her hand to the back of Jason’s head feeling for any injuries. Once satisfied with her make-shift examination, she assisted Jason into a sitting position against some crates, allowing him to drink from a water bottle once he was settled.

“I’ve just commed O. She’ll have the Batmobile here in five minutes,” Tim stated as in walked up to Cass and Jason, typing something on his holographic wrist computer. Tim most have been the one to call out ‘Hood', Cass usually keeping shouting and projection of her voice to a minimum. Tim closed the holograph on his wrist and stared around the warehouse then faced Jason.

“Are you alright and where’s ‘Wing?” And wouldn’t Jason like to know.

“Fine, minor concussion most likely and wouldn’t have a clue. Only woke-up a few minutes ago. Say, how long was I out?”

“You and Nightwing disconnected from the main communication server two hours ago when you told us you were going to take action on your drug bust,” Jason turned to Cass seeing, as she was the one answering his question.

“We only started searching for you guys thirty minutes ago when you weren’t reconnecting to the main server and everyone but you two had made it back from patrol,” she finished her explanation. The drug bust itself hadn’t taken long. The gangsters running it had all been amateurs trying to make a quick dollar, so Jason guessed he’d been out for roughly one hour and thirty minutes. Fan-fucking-tastic, he thought. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“You sure you haven’t seen ‘Wing?” Tim was back at him again with more questions.

“Yes.”

“Did you get separated during whatever happened to lead to us finding you lying on the floor of a Gotham Harbour warehouse?”

“I’m going to be honest with you Red, I really have no fucking clue what happened to lead to me being on the floor of a Gotham Harbour warehouse.” The top of Tim’s mask crinkled suggesting he was either thinking or worrying but seeing as it was Tim it was probably both.

“Perhaps you got ambushed and he got separated behind one of the crates during the fight,” Cass spoke up.

“Not possible,” Tim said, once again typing away on his holographic wrist computer.

“I’ve just done a heat scan of the building, other than a few rats, we’re the only ones here.” That wasn’t ideal. Jason was joking about Dick leaving him in a warehouse knocked unconscious. No way Goldie would actually do it.

“But their trackers said they were both here,” Cass was looking over at Tim wearing a look of worry with a hint of where-the-hell-is-our-brother on her face. This definitely wasn’t ideal. Where the hell was that Dickhead?

Jason felt movement beside him and looked over to see Cass getting up and walk behind the crates he was currently sitting up against. He looked over at Tim who simply shrugged. They had learnt not to doubt Cass and her instincts, not like they ever did.

From behind, Jason could hear a crate lid being removed. The sound of wood being pushed along wood filled the silent warehouse. The fact that the ‘crack’ noise that came with opening new crates didn’t fill the warehouse before the ‘wood being pushed along wood’ sound did, led Jason to the conclusion that it was already open. It may have been a crate he and Dick had opened while checking for drugs, if they had time to follow protocol before they were ambushed. Or perhaps whoever had attacked them had opened it and placed whatever Cassandra was looking for inside. Cass walked back around to their side of the crates holding a small device and oh. Oh.

“Oh no. That’s-”

“Nightwing’s suit tracker,” Jason finished for Tim.

“‘Oh no’ indeed,” Cass agreed.

Vroom. The Batmobile pulled up at the front of the warehouse. In the corner the thugs were starting to stir.

“We’ll leave the thugs here. Oracle said that she’s contacted Commissioner Gordon already to come brings these guys in,” Tim gestured towards the drowsy gang members tied up in the corner.

“Honestly, those guys are the least of our worries,” Jason commented, eyeing the tracker in Cass’s hand.

The tracker that was supposed to be on Dick’s suit. The tracker that was purposely taken off his Nightwing suit meaning whoever took Big Bird didn’t want their search for him to be easy. Cass handed the tracker over to Tim, who then made a start for the Batmobile, and helped Jason up. Once on his feet, Jason noted Tim heading towards the driver’s seat of the car.

“Don’t you think about it Replacement. I’m driving.”

“Well you also have a minor concussion, your words not mine. I’m driving.”

“I’m older.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you have a concussion.”

“Step away-”

The door to the driver’s seat opened, Cass standing next to it.

“I’m driving.” Before either boy could think of protesting, she had entered the car, closing the door behind her. The engine started, followed shortly with Cass opening the window.

“Get in.” Both boys complied, climbing into the back. Distantly, Jason heard Tim comming someone that they had found Dick’s suit tracker, just not Dick.

Where are you Dickhead? Jason relaxed his head against the head-rest of his seat.

Where are you?

Somewhere just outside of Gotham, a group of assassins were beginning to load a plane. Placed in its cargo hold was a red helmet and an unconscious black and blue suited vigilante tied to a chair beaten, bruised, and bloodied.

Chapter Text

Duke did not expect to be woken up by Stephanie banging on his door on Thursday night. Or was it early Friday morning? Regardless, he did not expect to be woken up.

During her knocking, Stephanie told him that there was a meeting in the Batcave, that Bruce said was important for him to attend. When asked what the meeting was about, Steph said she had an idea but didn’t want to jump to any conclusions and give Duke misinformation.

“Just get up and get ready,” Stephanie said from the other side of the door. Soon Duke could hear her footsteps travelling down the hall towards the direction of the Batcave.

It must be an incredibly important meeting if Bruce wanted Duke present. It wasn’t like Duke had never attended after-patrol meetings, it was just Bruce or whoever was there would fill him in on things later. Duke’s night-time patrols were rare, Signal mainly being a daytime vigilante, and he often used night-time for what it was intended for. Sleep.

He moved with haste as he walked to his closet, putting on a jacket that would keep him warm against the chill of the Batcave, but wouldn’t roast him alive. He found the pink bunny slippers that Stephanie got him as a joke. Jokes on her. The slippers were the comfiest piece of footwear he’d ever had the pleasure of owning in his life.

Duke was coming close to half a year of being a semi-permanent resident of Wayne Manor, still having an uncle he goes to visit every so often, and during that time he had gained a series of presents.

One of the first came from Bruce. It was simple. He’d come up to his room, boxes still packed from the move, to find a small wrapped gift on his bedside table. Placed under the box was a letter addressed to him. Carefully, he opened the envelope to a card as simple as the box it was under. Inside an even simpler message.

No matter what happens, you will always have a place here,
Bruce.

It was short and sweet. A Bruce Wayne level of sappiness. Duke smiled at the card placing it down to unwrap and open the box. Keys. That was all that it was. Keys to Wayne Manor.

And for the first time since the Joker took his parents away, not physically but mentally, the veil of uncertainty that had covered his entire being started to lift. Things weren’t perfect but they’d be okay and that’s all that Duke really wanted. And if he sat there in his room, a few tears of pure happiness and relief running down his cheek, no one needed to know.

The next few gifts came from Steph, Cass, and Tim.

Duke had discovered that Stephanie Brown giving out people any bunny-related item had become a tradition of sorts at Wayne Manor. When he’d asked Tim about its origins he simply shrugged saying ‘she liked bunnies so we had to deal with it,’ and apologised for that fact when he saw the pink bunny slippers at the end of Duke’s bed. Duke told him it was fine. Truly it was. After that, a range of bunny-themed gifts would be found in Duke’s room every so often. The thought to be annoyed at it not once crossed his mind.

The gift from Cass lacked the material aspect like the others. Instead, she found him roaming the halls one day and told him they were going to go out to get ice cream. And they did. They also went to the movies, had a blast at the amusement park and went to the market held once a month at Robinson Park. They ended up buying one of those cheap BFF necklaces that formed a heart when put together. But that wasn’t Cass’s gift. No. the entire day was. The moment, the present, that was his gift, and he loved every bit of it.

Tim had either been running on several cups of coffee when he’d gotten Duke his gift or he was way cheekier than Duke initially thought. Both possibilities being equally true. He’d unwrapped the mug at breakfast when Tim had given it to him that morning to find a white mug with the phrase, ‘You are the light of my life,’ on it. He looked across the table to see Tim smirking. Later on in the week, Duke had gifted him a mug saying, ‘All Bi-myself.’ The ‘bi’ being spelt ‘b’ ‘i’, coloured in the bisexual flag colours.

“I have a boyfriend you know,” Tim had said after reading the message.

“Wasn’t always the case,” Duke replied. After that, the family noticed a growing number of gifts being exchanged between Duke and Tim, each having their own cheesy quote on them.

Damian’s gift followed shortly after.

It was unexpected but welcomed. It was just the two of them in the manor that day, everyone being out including Alfred, when Damian approached him with a sheet of paper in his hand.

“Though I am not bothered that your walls are lacking in decorations, I overheard you telling Grayson that you were trying to better fill the space and I thought this may assist you in doing so,” Damian handed the sheet of paper over to Duke. Duke flipped it over revealing a masterful grey-scale sketch of a pod of dolphins, one jumping out over the waves of the ocean.

“It was brought to my attention that you are quite fond of dolphins.”

“It’s amazing Damien.” Briefly, Damian’s neutral expression broke into a slight smile before it sealed over again.

“Well, of course it is. Pennyworth should be home soon with the groceries. I’ll take my leave to get ready to assist him.” Duke never hung the drawing up on his walls. Instead, he always kept it on him, the sketch placing him in a comforting bubble every time he looked at it.

Jason and Dick’s presents came almost simultaneously.

Jason gifted him a life-time membership card to the Gotham Public Library. It came in an envelope with a message saying, It’s important to read, Jason. Duke couldn’t help the snort that came after reading the note.

Dick’s gift had been found on his bedside table, similar to how he found Bruce’s. He saw the picture in the DIY frame immediately after he entered his room. It wasn’t that hard. The frame was made from popsicle-sticks and was coloured with neon yellow highlighter. It was decorated with a series of funky stickers Duke didn’t know whether Dick already owned or brought specifically for his little project. The picture itself was a recently taken photo of Damien, Tim, Cass, Steph, Jason, Dick, and himself. It was chaos captured in a moment. No one was facing the camera, all focused on Tim and Damien about to grab each other by the throat. Steph and Jason were cheering it on while Cass and Dick looked conflicted between the emotions of amusement and the need to step in. Steph had ended up squeezing Duke to her side where he was smiling nervously. Like all the other gifts it was perfect.

Duke noticed Dick’s gift as he walked up to his bedside table to check the time.

2:43am.

Early Friday morning. He knew it.

Duke opened his door to the hallway of Wayne Manor going the direction Stephanie left to towards the Batcave. Once there, he noticed four things.

One: Stephanie and Damian were in pyjamas. This either meant they didn’t go on patrol tonight or they had time to change before the meeting. Though he assumed they lefted, seeing as Stephanie had been fairly awake to get him for the meeting.

Two: Tim, Cass, and Jason (excluding Bruce seeing as he is always in uniform at post-patrol meetings) were all still in their vigilante outfits minus the masks, suggesting they had arrived later. Jason was also nursing his head with an icepack.

Three: Barbara was video calling from home and was on the Batcomputer. Okay, this most have been really important if Oracle had to attend the meeting.

Four: Dick was nowhere to be seen. Duke started getting a sneaky suspicion on what this meeting may be about.

“Duke you’re here,” Bruce said as Duke came towards the Batcomputer.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be. I understand you were sleeping.” Duke simply nodded to confirm.

“Now that you’re all here I have some extremely urgent news to share.” And Bruce sounded near worried.

This wasn’t going to be good. Not good at all.

Somewhere in the back of a plane a vigilante stirred.

Chapter Text

Stephanie had had a rough patrol.

It was Gotham, all patrols were rough, but this one really drove her head in.

Tonight, was one of the rare nights Gotham’s feared rogues were either in Arkham or in hiding. For an amateur, this would seem to be a good thing. For a highly experienced, qualified Bat like Stephanie, it was not. Don’t get her wrong. She didn’t want the rogues running rampant across Gotham’s streets, but holy hell does it keep petty criminals at bay. Between mugging someone and running away from Bane’s warpath, most would choose the latter.

The lack of Gotham’s major rogues taking action upon the streets had caused a steady rise of new up-start gangs trying to make a penny and people getting a tad too careless, getting drunk and then doing something stupid. On this patrol alone, Stephanie found herself telling not one, but two groups of drunk college students they can’t commit arson on a tree because it looked at them funny. The second group ended up going through with their plan, then immediately started begging for the tree’s forgiveness. Amidst the chaos, she received a good-old punch in the gut, whilst trying to pry someone away from the flaming tree because and quote, “The tree needed sacrifices.”

So, when she got back to the Batcave and Bruce told her she was dismissed, excuse her for being a little relieved. However, that relief was briefly replaced with confusion and concern when Bruce asked her a rather simple question.

“Have you heard from Nightwing or Red Hood?”

See simple question. There should be a simple answer.

And the answer was simple, because, no, she hadn’t heard from the two for about an hour after they disconnected from the main communication system. And that’s where the concern came in.

Sure, Jason had a habit of not coming back to the cave after patrols or being late, but Dick. Was he always on time no, but he always put in the effort to at least tell them he’d be late and seeing as the two were together on a simple drug bust they should’ve been at least back online by now.

“No.”

The answer was all Stephanie could give.

Bruce huffed out a sound of acknowledgment.

“Get some sleep, Stephanie. I’m sure they just got held up. Keep a form of communication in your room just in case we need you.”

And with that Stephanie left to take off her Spoiler gear and headed up into the Manor.

When she arrived in the wing where the multitude of Bruce’s children slept, she made sure to put her stealth training to good use. Duke had the room right across from her, and she’d feel like an asshole if she was the cause of waking him up. Someone in this family should have a considerably decent sleep schedule.

Once in her room, she didn’t feel like sleeping, eyeing the communication device she bought up with her in her hand.

She wanted to believe they were fine, but her gut told her otherwise.

Her gut was regrettably correct.

Her comm beeped in a way that informed her that Bruce wanted a full family meeting. She decided to let Duke sleep and fill him in on things later.

As she left her room, she saw Damien exiting his.

“The alert means a full family meeting. I advise you to wake up Thomas.”

So much for trying to allow him to sleep.

Once everyone had arrived at the Batcave, whether in PJ's or vigilante gear, Bruce began to speak.

“Now that you’re all here I have some extremely urgent news to share.” He eyed towards the direction where Tim, Cass, and Jason were standing.

“As those of you went on patrol tonight know, Dick and Jason were running behind on patrol and had cut their communication to us. After an hour and thirty minutes, Cassandra and Tim offered to find them via their built-in suit trackers.”

“Unfortunately,” Barbara continued the meeting. “Both trackers were severely damaged leading to an extended period of time trying to pinpoint their location.” The concern Stephanie had felt from when she previously returned to the Batcave settled again in her gut. Only now did she realise that Dick wasn’t there with them. Well, the knowledge of him not being there only now sinking in. Of course, she noticed his absence. Dick had a way of commanding attention to himself, whether it was on purpose or not. She still hadn’t figured out whether it was his welcoming personality or life in the circus. She settled for both options.

“When Babs confirmed a location for us, we found two things, an unconscious Jason-”

“I was starting to wake up.”

Tim continued, ignoring Jason's remark.

“And-”

“No Grayson?” Damian finished off. He had his arms crossed tight across his chest. His face wore the usual neutral scowl with a hit of annoyance.

“We already gathered that, seeing as he isn’t here.”

Tim’s face twitched, mouth opening the slightest before closing again. He schooled his expression over side-eyeing Damien before continuing. This time a little more irritated.

“Well, yes, we didn’t find Dick, but that wasn't I was going to say. Instead, I was going to say we found this.”

Tim placed a circular device, no bigger than Stephanie’s pinkie, on a table near the Batcomputer.

“It’s the Nightwing suit tracker, meaning whoever took Dick doesn’t want our search for him to be easy.”

Steph and Duke looked at the tracker, mouths apart not enough to be obvious but to know they were surprised, and eyes blown slightly wider than what was to be considered relaxed. At a first glance, Damien seemed totally unaffected by the tiny but impactful device laid upon them, but you could by the tightness in his shoulders and the way he now held his arms closer to his chest, that he too was shocked and worried.

Stephanie could tell by the way the device phased neither Bruce nor Babs, that Tim or Cass had already commed to notify them of their findings.

“Whoever ambushed us, also took my helmet,” Jason spoke after the initial shock that came from herself, Duke, and Damian.

“How is that important, Todd? Can’t you just get another helmet? Don’t you have dozens in your possession?” Damian quipped, turning his gaze towards Jason.

“It’s important because no one just takes helmets, Demon Spawn.”

“Exceptionally Red Hood helmets. Those can get ugly.” Stephanie was satisfied with her comment when she heard Jason mumble about them not being that bad under his breath with frustration.

Stephanie had to agree with him though. His latest helmets were way more appealing than the ones before, but that didn’t erase the memories she had of them. The pill helmet must have been up there with one of the most traumatising things she’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. Shivers run down her spine just at the thought of it.

“Jason has a point though,” Barbara spoke from her video call, Jason a tad too dramatically gestured his arm towards her moving it in a motion that said, see, she agrees with me. “Whoever attacked them at the docks knew about Dick’s tracker and probably had suspicions about Jason’s helmet.”

“But, why take Jason’s helmet? His suit tracker isn’t even in there and even if it was, it would mean they took it with them. Wouldn’t they just be leading us to their location?”

“Brown is right. Why not leave the tracker, as they left Grayson’s? Maybe our mystery kidnappers aren’t as clever as anticipated.”

“It’s because they weren’t looking for Jason’s tracker,” Tim spoke up, all heads snapping to him.

“Then what were they looking for?” Cass asked.

Tim looked at Bruce, causing realisation to dawn on his face.

“Of course. They weren’t looking for the Red Hood suit tracker because they were looking for the Red Hood suit footage.”

The pieces began to fall into place. The attackers’ plans become clear in everyone’s mind.

Step one: Find Dick and Jason or more specifically Dick seeing as he was the one, they had taken.

Step two: Remove any devices that would allow tracking done Dick to be easier.

Step three: Find any recordings that may help identify who the ambushers were.

“Perhaps they are even more clever than anticipated,” Stephanie suggested.

The family spent the next thirty minutes trying to figure out any possible suspects and easier ways to find the location of Dick. Duke had said he’d heard nothing from his daytime patrols and that he’d tried to gather more information the next time he was out and Jason had nothing from Crime Alley.

Soon Alfred came down to the Batcave.

“Though I too am worried about Master Dick’s whereabouts, both Master Damian and Master Duke have school tomorrow. It is about time you two end to bed. Didn’t you both have tests tomorrow?”

Duke and Damian both waved their goodnights, Damian putting up more of a fight before Alfred ushered him up into the Manor.

The remaining people turned back to the Batcomputer and a board with clues and suspects, which at some point Stephanie and Tim had brought out.

Stephanie’s gut told her they would find him and so far, her gut hadn’t been wrong.

A plane landed. A vigilante was removed from the cargo pit and a helmet was destroyed. An immortal smiled, cruel, wicked, evil.

Chapter Text

Grayson was going to be alright, Damian told himself the following morning.

He had arisen from his bed at 6:30 am exactly three hours and fifteen minutes after Alfred had sent him back up to the Manor to get as much sleep as possible for his test today. To most, three hours and thirty minutes of sleep was not enough to suffice throughout a day, but to Damian, the Blood Son of Batman and trained League of Assassins member since birth, three hours and thirty minutes of sleep was more than enough to keep himself high and alert throughout the day. No, he wasn’t yawning whilst he got out of bed and no, he wasn’t yearning to go back under the covers barely a second after his feet touched the floor. Damian followed the familiar routine required to get ready for a day at school.

He changed out of his nightwear, getting into fresh undergarments. He then put on his pants and button-up shirt. After, he’d go to the bathroom and fix up his hair. Usually, before all that, he’d have a shower, but he and Batman had gotten home early from patrol last night allowing himself to shower then. Showering now would lead to unnecessary water usage. He was an assassin before he was a Bat, and assassins were forever resourceful regardless of circumstance. After he finished in the bathroom he put on his belt, picked up his blazer and ended down to the kitchen, where Alfred was cooking one of his masterful breakfasts.

It was one of the rare occasion where everyone was staying at the Manor at the same time. Except for Grayson, a voice told him. He chose to ignore it.

Since it was one of the occasions where the wing where father’s children resigned rooms were all occupied, Alfred would have a buffet of sorts going on down at breakfast.

Damian was correct.

As he walked into the dining room, one of the smaller ones reserved for the family rather than big dinners and parties, he saw its table decorated with an array of breakfast foods down the table. The smell of the room was something to die for.

“Master Damian, just in time. Eat while it’s still hot then I’ll take you and Duke to school.”

Alfred, forever a British man, pulled out the chair to Damian’s usual sitting position.

Damian walked over placing his blazer over the back of his chair and started to help himself to the food in front of him.

As he gave himself an appropriate serving, unlike some people in this family, ahem, Todd and Brown, he began to realise he was the only one to have visited the dining room. The undisturbed food when he arrived, the neatly folded napkins, and the clear silverware met Thomas was running behind and everyone else was still tracking down Grayson. They may have gone to bed, but they were Bats, sleep was a foreign concept to them during times of stress and to some (read: Tim) at all.

Thinking of the other, he could hear Alfred greeting someone in the kitchen.

Thomas then made an appearance through the entrance and sat down across from Damian.

“Morning Thomas,” Damian began with the simple greeting.

“Morning Damian. Are you the only one up?” Duke returned the greeting as he scanned over the empty dining hall.

“I doubt we’re the only ones up, given the situation we were presented with last night, but I am the only one who has made a physical appearance to breakfast,” Damian answered.

Duke started placing some of Alfred’s famous waffles onto his plate, along with some fruit and a drizzle of maple syrup. After a few beats of silence, of Damian and Duke just eating, Duke spoke.

“So, what’s your test on?”

Ah, yes. Pennyworth had mentioned to everyone that both he and Duke had a test today.

“History,” Damian then expanded on his answer. It would be something Grayson would be proud of him for. “History is one of my preferred subjects, I find it interesting. My mother also made sure I was well rounded in my knowledge of it before I started living with father.”

Duke seemed a bit taken aback by the extended response but smiled regardless.

“What subject are you being tested on?” Damian continued the conversation.

“Just general maths,” Duke replied before taking a sip of some juice he had poured for himself.

“Is that why you and Grayson were drowning the coffee table with paper?”

Duke chuckled.

“Yep.”

The two continued like that, asking each other questions about anything then sitting in a comfortable silence till one of them had something to ask, until Alfred came into the dining hall his chauffeur hat in his hands.

“It is in our best interest to leave now if you both want to get to school on time, I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Both boys finished what they had on their plates and placed their dishes in the sink. Duke clumsily slid down the halls in his socks as he raced to get his school bag. Damian ‘tck-ed’ at his disorganisation whilst he put on his blazer and walked to the front of the house to put on his shoes. Opening the door, Damian was welcomed by the sound of Spring birds and the warmth from the Sun. A gentle reminder that the school year was almost over, with only a week left for packing up and what teachers deemed ‘fun activities.’

Damian walked over to the car where Alfred was waiting, holding the back door open with a small but welcoming smile.

As Damian walked over, Alfred looked at the front door and then back to him.

“Would you have any idea where Master Duke could be, Master Damian?”

“Right here! Right here!” Duke came rushing out from the Manor, bending over once he reached the car.

It was comical if Damian was being honest, that Duke was here acting like he had run a marathon when Damian was well aware that the man had gone on a rooftop chase the other day and was completely fine. Damian guessed that even a vigilante could get unnecessarily tired with the knowledge they’d be late for school.

Alfred merely smiled as he gestured for the boys to get into the car. The drive to school was mostly done in silence with the occasional question from Alfred making sure they had everything for today. They pulled up at the front gates of Gotham Academy where Alfred got out to open their door. Before either boy could go into the facility, Alfred asked them one final question.

“Just so I’m aware, both your tests are in the early periods?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Both boys responded, Duke’s sounding more like a question.

“Uh, why?” Duke asked.

“Just in case I need to take you two out of school early because of any information about the current situation at home,” Alfred answered. “I don’t want either of you to miss out on your final test of the year. Once you come back home, you’re done with school for the year.”

“But what about next week?”

“Master Thomas, when has anything important ever happened on the last week of school? You’ll be needed at home. Have a nice day boys, I’ll see you when I pick you up.” And with that, Alfred went back into the driver’s sit and drove back to the Manor.

“So,” Duke began awkwardly.

“So, I believe we should begin to walk to class, or else we’ll be late.”

“Right. Cool, cool, cool. Good luck on your History test Damian.”

“Tck. I don’t need luck. As I told you at breakfast, I am well equipped for this test.”

“I know, but it isn’t a bad thing to have a little extra luck in your corner.”

Duke smiled. It wasn’t blindingly bright like Grayson’s or mischievous but kind like Brown’s, instead, it was warm, soft perfectly natural on his face. Damian didn’t realise he was smiling back.

“I to wish you luck on your test, Thomas.”

“Thanks, Damian.”

Whilst talking Damian and Duke had made it into the halls of Gotham Academy. They arrived at Damian’s locker where he and Duke waved goodbye and Damian collected the necessary items for his history test. Walking down the halls he reached the designated classroom where his test was taking place. He strolled inside and took a sit towards the front of the classroom on the side closest to the door. Soon the other children in Damian’s class filtered in, taking their time to find their sit and quieten down and wait for the teacher’s arrival.

Once their teacher arrived, they marked the role before immediately handing out the test papers. As Damian saw the first question a smirk decorated his face.
This was going to be easy.

Pain. As he awoke, all he could feel was pain. A numbing pain that covered his entire body, not a single area left untouched by the feeling.
“How kind of you to finally join us, Richard.”

Ra’s.

Dick suddenly became hyper-aware of the lack of a certain red-helmeted vigilante.

“Where’s Jason?” He snarled. No point in using code names when Ra’s already knew who they are.

“Don’t worry, we barely touched him, let’s focus on you. We have a lot in store for you.” Ra’s said the last part slower than the rest, really wanting Dick to hear and understand his intentions.

Dick scanned the dark room and then looked at the only other living being there.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Being a high-school dropout had many benefits for one’s life. For Tim, one of those benefits was that he could dedicate all his time to finding his missing brother.

“We don’t have a tracker or any easily recoverable footage,” Barbara spoke from the video call she was on. “What the hell, has your brother gotten himself into?”

“Who knows? Nothing’s happened in Blüdhaven from the reports he’s been sending in once in a while and he’s only been in Gotham three days. Can you really make an enemy great enough they want to kidnap you in three days?”

“It’s Dick, anything’s possible.”

Tim groaned pushing himself away from the Batcomputer, then leaning his head against the back of the chair towards the ceiling. Trailing his hands in a dramatic manner down his face, he looked over to the board that was brought out last night.

Was it necessary? No.

Was it fun to connect things with red yarn? Surprisingly, yes.

“Have we got a target we should be focusing on thus far?” Barbara asked.

“Nope. Nothing has changed since last night’s meeting, or should I say this mornings.”

“Tim.”

“Yes?”

“Stop.”

Tim lifted his hands in a mocking surrender and continued examining the board. They ruled out the majority of Gotham’s rogues early in the meeting, seeing as the operation was a stealth job. Gotham rogues enjoyed the thrill of the dramatics, many opting for show rather than stealth. A Gotham rogue would’ve left a clue or a calling card and probably would’ve taken Jason too.

Now they were just going through some old files on previous villains Nightwing had encountered. The majority of them were dead, M.I.A or mostly reformed. And by reformed, they weren’t interested in Nightwing that much anymore.

“So, how you been? We’ve haven’t hanged out, just the two of us in ages,” Tim did a 360° with his chair before pushing it closer to the monitor where Barbara’s video call showing.

Barbara side-eyed him from where she was doing work on one of her computers. She then smirked.

“If you wanted to spend time with another genius, you could’ve asked. No need to kidnap Dick,” she teased.

Tim smiled. “I guess I’ll have to return him, now you’ve foiled my plans.” Barbara chuckled before angling her wheelchair to better look at Tim.

“Seriously Tim, if you want to hang out, I’m a call away or swing down to the Public Library, I’m almost always there. Bring Jason with you.”
“Jason? He would rather die again than take me anywhere.”

“Oh, Jason wouldn’t be doing it for you he’d be doing for himself. I work at a public library, his equivalent to heaven on Earth. At this point he should just work there himself, seeing how he regularly comes to help organise the shelves.”

“Imagine you’re trying to find a book and see a six-foot-tall man built with pure muscle angrily cleaning up shelves,” Tim snorted.

“He needs to join a book club,” Barbara said with a tilted smile, slightly shaking her head.

“Agreed. Say how likely do you think it is that the library’s security cameras have picked up on him trying to steal books?”

“Ha! He’s never stolen books before; he’s only broken into the library to make sure everything’s in its correct spot. The amount of times I’ve had to hack the security cameras to erase and change footage. He needs to start paying me,” Barbara angled herself towards her monitor again, the glare from the computer screens reflecting off her glasses making it impossible to see what she was looking at.

Something clicked in Tim’s mind. It was a comical lightbulb moment, a plan clicking into place.

“Barbara, if someone tried hard enough, could they access the original footage?”

Barbara looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “I suppose they could. It would depend on what technology they have and the method the person who altered the footage used, but with time and knowledge it can be done,” she explained.

“Where are the nearest cameras to Gotham Harbour’s warehouses?”

“There are a few. The first that comes to my mind is the local – the local fish market,” Barbara answered, stopping her response, then finishing with a more certain tone realising Tim’s plan.

Soon Tim could here Barbara frantically clicking keys on her computer as he started pulling out files for other cameras around Gotham Harbour.

“Along with the local fish market, there’s also a few bars with cameras on the outside.”

“Any cameras on the docks or in the warehouses?”

“Yeah, but by God to they need an upgrade.”

They continued like that for the next hour. Finding cameras within range of the warehouse they last heard from Dick and downloading the footage from the cameras. Many of them were far from helpful being glitchy, picking up on no sound, and being dirty from lack of maintenance, but the ones that were working, allowed Tim and Barbara to really start putting their plan into action.

“I’m sending you a file with all the tampered footage I’ve been able to detect,” Barbara informed Tim. As the file came through, Tim saw her packing up around her monitors.

“Are you going anywhere?” He asked.

“Yep. I’m coming to you. The tech I have here is great, but it’s better for hacking not restoring tampered footage. Make a start on downloading and recovering the data, I’m on my way.”

Tim did a quick nod before Barbara cut the call, making a start on reviewing, and restoring the security footage.

Thirty minutes later Barbara arrived. On her lap she was balancing a tray with two mugs of coffee and Alfred’s signature waffles. Barbara handed over his coffee which was in a mug that said ‘All Bi-Myself’ the ‘Bi’ being coloured with the bisexual flag.

“I have a boyfriend you know,” he said tone flat.

“In the wise words of Duke, ‘wasn’t always the case’,” she replied smirking before taking a sip from her own cup which was a simple grey colour.

Tim rolled his eyes, plotting his next corny present to Duke. He was thinking either a Buzz Lightyear mug or just the toy itself.

“So, everything’s finished downloading. You recover the footage, I analyse?”

Barbara interlocked her hands, flexing her palms to the roof of the Batcave. She then moved her wheelchair closer to the Batcomputer. “Sounds like a plan.”

The next few hours consisted of Barbara using the Batcave’s advanced technology to restore footage to the best of her ability, while Tim hyper analysed it, taking in every detail. Around the third hour Tim had to physically restrain himself from audibly gasping.

“Babs stop and check this out.”

Barbara looked over to Tim, who was walking to her with the tablet he was using to analyse the security tapes she was sending. She looked at him puzzled, the image on the screen being to blurry for her to have a proper look at. Tim caught on.

“Who can’t see it with a normal device, the cameras so old, but if I zoom in here and use the advanced tech on this tablet I can increase the pixels giving us a higher quality image and there. That belt, look at the symbol.”

Tim looked over to Barbara seeing her eyes widen and her mouth agape. Worry was as clear as day on her face.

“It may be a stretch. Even with our tech the image is still unclear.”

“A stretch is better than anything we’ve got right now. I’ll comm the others, tell them we’ve found something. Try and find anything remotely similar from other recordings.”

With that Barbara turned away sending out an emergency signal. Tim looked back down at his tablet.

Tim was one of those people who enjoyed being right. That was an understatement. He did everything in his power to make sure he was right, whether it be changing Wiki pages to gaslighting others that he was on the correct side of the argument the entire time, he loved being right. He didn’t want to be right, right now. His gut and his mind told him, he was correct and Tim learnt only in life that it was important to trust those two things, especially in their line of business. But being correct meant Dick was in incredible danger.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Dickwing.

Because what the fuck had he done to get kidnapped by the League of Assassins?

“Where am I Ra’s?”

“You'll know in due time.”

Dick clenched and unclenched his hands grinding his teeth. He had to think. He knew from experience that getting angry didn’t do any wonders to help him come up with a plan.

“You have a lot of unresolved anger, Richard. A lot of unresolved anger you choose to keep hidden to keep those you love safe, but what would happen if that anger was set free?”

Ra’s leaned closer to Dick, hands behind his back a cruel, inhuman like smile across his face. He continued only in a whisper, close to Dick’s ear.

“What would happen if your family had to face a beast they didn’t even know existed?”
His eyes widen.

“What are you going to do Ra’s?” he fought against his bounds, his call causing an echo within the cavern. Ra’s merely smiled, waves of malice washing over Dick.

“You will know soon Richard, but a broken body has no use to me.”

As Ra’s started to walk away two assassins, emerged from the shadows grabbing Dick as he pulled and fought. A cloth was pressed to his face and he fell into darkness.

Chapter Text

In times of crisis, Cassandra was taught to stay calm. It was one of the first lessons she was taught, and one of the few she still follows. That lesson is what led to the current scenario.

She couldn’t hide her smirk as she looked over the board seeing Bruce furrow his brow in frustration. She was far from being the best chess player in the Manor, but she refused to go down without a fight and right now she was dominating the battlefield. Usually, she and Bruce’s rounds of chess were more balanced, neither winning nor losing by much, but today Bruce was more distracted.

Cassandra couldn’t blame him.

Dick had been missing, with no leads, nearing twelve hours. Cass had hoped that these chess matches would help ease Bruce’s worries for a while, but the situation was occupying too much of Bruce’s mind for a couple of small chess games to overrun.

“Checkmate.” 5-2. Cass had won. Yet she didn’t feel as if she had succeeded in the task she had when she had first sorted out the chessboard.
Bruce chuckled. “I guess I’m in need of some practice.”

He smiled. Not the charismatic almost outgoing smile he used at galas amongst the Gotham elites or the strained smile that was used when things got a bit too awkward in their civilian personas, no, this one was small. It was small but held more love and pride than any other one of his smiles. It was warm and safe; it was home. Cassandra smiled. Maybe she had succeeded in her original task, even if it was only for a moment.

“Don’t get too cheeky,” Bruce teased. Cass pulled a face.

“Ah, don’t act innocent. I saw you smirking before.”

“Maybe if you were more focused on the game rather than my facial expressions, you might have had a chance to win,” Cass remarked as she packed up the game.

“You’ve been hanging out with the others too much. Their behaviour has rubbed off on you,” Bruce said, mocking his ‘Batman lecturing’ voice.
“Or maybe I’m just right.”

“No dessert for a week.”

“Alfred wouldn’t allow that.”

They wandered over to the kitchen, Cass noticing the way Bruce’s shoulders weren’t as tense and how his jaw wasn’t held as tightly as before. Once they arrived at the kitchen, they retrieved some mugs from the cupboard and boiled the kettle. They poured their cups and then sat down on the kitchen stools and simply talked.

At about 1:15 pm, Jason walked into the kitchen in a brown and white striped shirt and jeans.

“Are you guys having a tea party? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Afternoon Jason,” Bruce put down his mug to look over at Jason, who was already pulling up a seat beside Cass.

“Yeah, yeah. Afternoon to you too, old man. Hey Cass.”

“Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence.

“How was patrol?”

“The regular.”

“So, nothing on Dick?”

“If I had any information about Dick, I wouldn’t be here chatting with you right now because we’d be in the Batcave analysing the shit out of the information I found,” Jason replied glaring past Cass at Bruce. Cassandra put down her mug.

“We’ll find him. Tim and Babs are in the Batcave right now looking in on any leads we have.”

“What leads do they have to follow?” Jason questioned as he walked over to the fridge and opened the door to look inside.

“It’s Babs and Tim, they’ll find one,” Cass replied as Jason closed the fridge holding a soda.

“Cass is right. They’ll find one.”

“Hmm,” Jason responded whilst drinking.

As if on cue, the comm Bruce had stored in his pocket started beeping, signalling for an emergency meeting in the Batcave. Immediately, everyone exited the kitchen and moved towards the direction of the Batcave. On the way, they saw Alfred dusting one of the many paintings in one of the hallways. Bruce gestured to Jason and Cass to continue to the Batcave as he approached Alfred, about to speak.

“Don’t worry Master Bruce. You head down to the Cave; I’ll pick up the boys from school.”

Bruce gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, before walking away, catching up to Jason and Cass.

The three of them entered the Batcave just as Stephanie arrived, coming through one of the other entrances to the hidden base.

“Steph? What are you doing here?” Cass heard Tim break the silence blanketing the room to address Stephanie’s arrival.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I get an emergency signal to come to the Batcave and I’m just not supposed to come?”

“Wha- no, I just thought you were at college.”

Cass looked between the two as they neared the Batcomputer where Barbara seemed to be organising some files and Tim was playing a loop of some low-quality security footage.

“I was. There’s something called leaving and don’t you even think about commenting on me skipping class, drop-out.”

“I wasn’t, ugh, doesn’t matter,” Tim stated turning away from Stephanie and back at the tablet in his hand.

Steph grabbed a here-by chair handing it over to Cass before retrieving one for herself and settling down across from Babs. Cass saw Jason get comfortable leaning up against a table and Bruce adjust his stance to evenly disrupt his weight. Barbara pushed up her glasses.

“Good news.”

“What?” Barbara looked towards Jason who shrugged his shoulders.

“I’d assumed you’d have good news and bad news; I’d like the good news please.”

Barbara side-eyed Jason and promptly rolled her eyes before continuing.

“We have a lead on who might’ve taken Dick,” Barbara paused. Cass sucked in a quick, unnecessary breath.

“From what we’ve gathered, it’s most likely League of Assassins.”

And wasn’t that a mighty blow.

They’ve dealt with the League of Assassins before. Ra’s creepy obsession with Tim was common knowledge amongst the family and Steph also fought alongside Tim when she was starting off as Batgirl. Damian was raised and trained amongst them, and Jason trained with them after being dipped in the Lazarus Pit. Bruce’s past relationship with Talia was one of the more interesting ways someone has gotten involved with the League. Cass, herself had also had the opportunity to face the group. The only one who hadn’t had a running with the League was Duke, but if Babs and Tim’s intel was right, and it probably was, that was about to change. All of them in the room right now were no strangers to the League of Assassins. But why Dick?
Like the rest of them, Dick had also faced the League and their assassins a number of times, but never once had Ra’s shown interest. What changed?

“But why Dick?” Cass vocalised her thoughts, breaking the silence encasing the air. “Ra’s has never shown interest in Dick, and besides Jason was right there.”

Jason pushed himself off the table. “Before we question anything, we need to make sure this is 100% the League’s doing.”

“Tim?” Barbara asked.

To answer her, he simply tapped his tablet a few times, and soon a blurry paused video found its place on the Batcomputer.
“What exactly are we looking at here, Tim?” Bruce questioned.

“It’s a security tape near the warehouse Jason and Dick were in. If I zoom in and run some code to increase the pixels, then, here.”

In the upper right corner of the screen was the unmistakable symbol of the League of Assassins.

“Fuck.”

Cass didn’t know whether it was Steph or Jason who said that, but whomever it was they were indeed correct.

Fuck.

A poisonous green glow illuminated the cavern.

“I don’t care how you place him in, just do it now.”

A splash echoed in the cavern.

Chapter Text

Green.

It clouds all his senses, trapping him in an abyss of the poisonous shade.

Dick takes in a breath, trying to reclaim air back into his lungs. Instead, a burning liquid flows into his body flooding his respiratory system.

He was drowning, but he wasn’t.

He was powerless, but he wasn’t.

Dick felt a new sense of strength flow through his veins.

He felt it as his body shifted, healing things long ago scarred and unfixable. Healing itself on an inhumane level.

Dick opened his eyes because they were closed before, but why did he see green? Why didn’t he see the darkness that came with closing your eyes?

More green. The green abyss deepens. It’s endless.

He’s cold. The liquid against exposed skin chills him. The cold he felt was more so a chilling nerve rather than temperature. A nerve screaming danger, danger, DANGER!

He’s not cold. He is cold, but he’s not cold. He’s unnaturally warm and the green burns, his eyes, his lungs, his skin it burns it all.

The green seemed to take effect in his mind, his thoughts running away from him, unable to make a coherent idea form in his head. They’re not all his thoughts, but at the same time, they are. They’re thoughts Dick doesn’t think about, thoughts he buried deep inside his mind. These thoughts, these voices, not necessarily new, are dark and bitter. Voices filled with hatred and anger that he hadn’t heard this loud since his parents died. Voices that he chose to ignore because he didn’t like the version of himself where he listened. And there the voices were drowning out all rationality.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t think.

HE COULDN’T THINK!

The feeling of nothingness surrounded his hand, but that unnatural warmth still flowed underneath his skin.

Nothingness.

Through the haze and chaos in his mind, he realised his hand had broken the surface of whatever he was drowning in. He kicked his legs, fighting the invisible force pulling him further into the abyss of green. His head broke the surface. The poison shade still blinded his vision and the change in brightness hurt his eyes.

A rough texture was felt from underneath his hand and he held onto it, gripping it firmly. He felt a sharp sting as if he had been cut before he felt the surface he was holding loosen under his grip.

Crash.

He fell back into the liquid and the previous sensation of skin repairing itself on a meta-like level returned. The sting from his hand became nothing more than a memory.

He felt himself sink deeper and deeper. The further down he went, the louder the chorus of voices in his head grew.

It was too loud. He needed to think. He needed it to be quiet. He needed the voices to shut the fuck up! Out of pure spite and need to silence the voices, he kicked once more. Finding a ledge, he used his upper body strength to pull himself up.

He should’ve felt tired. His fight against the green should’ve worn him out, but he felt just as energised when he first woke with the colour.

He still couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear either. The only thing he heard was the thumping of his heart against his chest. He could also hear muffled voices speaking amongst themselves. Along with the muffled voices, he heard another. It was further away and held a demanding tone. Orders. The new voice was speaking orders.

Dick couldn’t feel anything either other than the rough ground beneath him and the unnatural warmth coursing through his veins. Then he felt a grip on his shoulders.

Any part of him that wasn’t overrun by green died, the colour taking over. Every movement after was muscle memory, movements made in an unknown panic. There was no plan, no formation, no time. It was just Dick and the green and whoever or whatever had made the mistake of grabbing his shoulder.

His hand flew up to whatever was holding on to him, twisting it till a sickening crack echoed in his ear. If Dick was in control, he would know it was the sound of bone breaking. If he was thinking he’d know it was too easy to break. He felt a kick land on his back, causing him to stumble. Dick returned the favour sending a kick back in the offender’s direction. It was too loud. His mind. His surroundings. It was too much all at once.

After his kick, Dick lost control.

It was kick, duck, punch, dodge, punch, repeat.

Kick, duck, punch, dodge, punch, repeat.

Kick, duck, punch, dodge, punch, repeat.

Then it wasn’t.

Dick heard the faraway voice again. The voice that held pride and command. The voices in his head were starting to subside, yet the green had not even begun to clear from his vision.

“Knock him out. We’ll place him in the Pit again. Deathstroke was right, he is perfect.”

No.

He wasn’t going back. Not where it was loud. Not where he was drowning. Not where it burned.

The voices disagreed. Dick disagreed with the voices.

Someone grabbed him and he grabbed back. His hands found a place around his offender.

Your victim, a voice in his head said, that spoke an awful lot like Deathstroke, but sounded an awful lot like himself.

Dick tightened his grip and he didn’t dare let go. Not when whomever he was holding loosened their hold on him. Not when they began to struggle and choke under his grip. If he was in a clearer mindset, his normal mindset, he would have been not concerned, but horrified at how his grip tightened when cracking could be heard and felt.

Crack.

Dick collapsed, whatever he was holding fell from his hand hitting the ground with a thud.

The green cleared. He could tell it still tinted his vision as he looked down, his suit being just off its usual black. The blood too. Most blood, he found, was usually either a deep or bright red colour. The blood on his hands was brown, a common colour made when red and green were mixed. The voices were too beginning to clear, not without a fight, however. Many continued to call out to him, demanding to be heard, but Dick found it easier to ignore now with his newfound peace and silence.

Dick’s mind short-circuited.

Blood. Why was there blood on his hands?

He focused back on his hands, narrowing in on the usually coloured red liquid. His head shot up to look at where he was. There around him were four bodies, all unconscious, all with an array of injuries on them. The three furthest away from him were unconscious but breathing, however, the being beside him was as still as a dead person. The realisation hit. They were a dead person.

A hand-shaped bruise had formed around their neck which was clearly broken, bending at an unnatural angle. Dick stared in horror.

A slow, mocking clap filled his ears.

“Why, thank you, Richard. I haven’t had someone react this violently after the Lazarus Pit since, let’s see, since your brother.”

Dick growled.

“Now, now. As much as this was an amazing display of your ability there is still much more I need to see. You were in the Pit for some time, hopefully, the lasting effects will be extended.”

The green began to return, but before he could act, Dick felt a small prick in the back of his neck.

“Come on, Richard. You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you now?”

Dick fell into a green-tinted darkness.

“We’re all in agreement that the League of Assassins is behind this?” Jason clarified. A series of ‘yes’s’ gave him his answer.

“The only way they would have been able to get in and out of Gotham undetected is via air.”

“Okay then. Tim, Barbara, track down all planes that have flow around the Gotham area in the past forty-eight hours.” Bruce began looking towards Barbara and Tim who nodded and turned to the Batcomputer.

“Everyone else, suit up.”

Just then the entrance to the Batcave opened, Duke and Damian approached still in their school attire.

“What news do you have to share on Grayson?” Damian asked.

Steph stepped forward. Their first mistake.

“Yeah, so, you’re familiar with your mum’s side of the family, right?”

Chapter Text

Duke was currently on a Gotham building rooftop in full Signal attire. This wasn’t a rare thing for Duke, what was rare was the people accompanying him.

“Duke, you can think of this as an official welcoming to the family,” Jason said.

“You guys say that about every inconvenience that occurs. How many ‘official welcomings’ to the family are there?” Duke looked back at Jason.

“As many as there needs to be. Now everyone’s had something that involves the League of Assassins. Yay!” Stephanie chimed.

“This doesn’t seem like a ‘yay’ situation, Steph.”

“Anything can be a ‘yay’ situation if you try hard enough, Duke. This ‘yay’ situation is a sarcastic one, the next could be a sad one for all you know.”
Duke, Steph, and Jason had been patrolling the East End district of Gotham for the past hour or so, Jason being the most familiar with the area as Crime Alley was located there. Duke had gone out with the others on a number of occasions, but he’d never done so at 4:00 pm in the afternoon. It was weird patrolling with multiple people at this time of day.

The three of them were currently positioned on a closed-off rooftop overlooking the city.

“How do you think worms reproduce?”

“What the fuck, Steph,” Jason’s confusion clear in his tone.

“Like how do they make little worm babies, you know, wabies?”

“That sounds like a child failed trying to say ‘rabies’.”

“You’re right Duke, it does sound like that. And for that reason, shut up Stephanie.”

Stephanie, who was sitting on a ventilation box, crossed her arms and lifted her chin up in a pouting manner.

“It was a valid question!”

“No, it was not!” Jason replied irritated.

Duke signed as he watched the two spiral into an argument about stupid questions and worm sex. He shivered. Duke would’ve liked to go his whole life not thinking about horny worms, thank you very much.

As he heard Steph listing cute names for a baby worm, he heard Tim speak into his comm.

“Hey, Tim-”

“Why are Jason and Steph arguing about worm sex?”

Duke winced.

“To be fair, Jason’s telling Steph off.”

“From what I heard no, he’s not. Unfortunately, Steph has corrupted him. Let us pray for our fallen soldier.”

The prayer lasted 2 seconds.

“I digressed. An unauthorised aircraft landed ten minutes outside of the Gotham area. You three are the closes. I’ll send coordinates so you guys can check it out.”

“Wilco,” Duke replied with a mocking tone with the radio call for accepting a request. He could feel the eye-roll from Tim as he left the line leaving. Duke was once again alone with Red Hood and Spoiler, two well-established, trusted, and feared vigilantes. If only Gotham’s rogues could see them now, debating worm sex positions.

“Guys,” Duke exclaimed, drawing both vigilantes’ focus towards him.

“Tim just commed with updates. One he’s been newly traumatised.”

“Why?”

“Two words Steph; worm sex. And the second update is that they’ve got a location. He’s sending coordinates now.”

On cue, all three of them were alerted of a sent message which they hastily opened and checked over.

“Alright, it’d be quicker if we go by bike.”

Duke and Steph looked at each other. Steph started rocking back and forth on her heels, hands behind her back, whilst Duke nervously laughed rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. An exaggerated sigh came from Jason who let his head fall back to face the sky.

“Fine. Get on my bike.”

“Does it even fit three people?”

“I don’t know, we’ll find out together. Now hurry up or I’m leaving you behind.”

As the trio made their way to the back alley where Jason hid his bike, Stephanie began talking again.

“We need a team name.”

“No,” Jason and Duke said in unison. They didn’t want another unhinged conversation.

“Come on. We could call ourselves Light Red-ish Purple or Hooded Purple Signs.”

Duke knew Stephanie knew that neither of them was amused. He heard Steph sigh in a you-guesses-are-no-fun way.

“Doesn’t matter. We have ten minutes to brainstorm together, let’s go.”

“Don’t you dare touch my bike Steph.”

Stephanie was true to her word, spending the entire ten-minute ride brainstorming different names for their little trio. They settled on the name Spoiled Red Lamps.

They arrived at their destination. It was a small clearing in a bushy area outside of Gotham, the type of place Poison Ivy would’ve loved. For the most part, the clearing looked untouched. A few animals had made their home in the area and it was surprisingly colourful being so close to the Gotham City smog. But on closer inspection, Duke noticed a pretty useful clue.

“Check this out.”

The other two with him came over to see the area of ground Duke was looking at. It was fairly unnoticeable, but with a careful eye, one could tell the grass had been recently flattened with the way the grass was darker than others around it and how the grass was on an angle. Another hint was the fact that there were plane wheels indented in the ground.

“So, a plane was definitely used.”

“We already knew that though. Is this one of those things where we take a photo of the tie track and Tim or Babs figure out what plane was used then use that information to find out how far and fast, they could’ve flown?” Stephanie theorised, hand to her chin in a quizzical manner.

“No. We sent here to look for other clues, but we’ve only discovered what we already knew,” Jason said looking around the clearing.

Suddenly, Tim spoke from the comms.

“Guys, how quickly can you get back to the cave?”

“Eight minutes, but I’ll be breaking a shit ton of rules. Why?”

“We got a message.”

“From an unknown?” Duke chimed.

“No. From Ra’s.”

Silence.

“Everyone on the bike, now,” Jason ordered neither Stephanie nor Duke had the thought to oppose.

“Forget what I said before. We’ll be there in seven minutes,” Jason ended the conversation with Tim, and then placed himself at the front of the bike.

They left the clearing, no hint that they were ever there.

Dick woke as he woke before, minus the drowning, vision skewed with green and an amplified uncontrollable rage. He was also fighting again feeling as if he was taking a back seat controlling his own body and mind.

He felt something break beneath his hand.

Chapter Text

Steph attempted to make conversation on their way to the Cave, but the overall depressing situation they found themselves in made her give up early on in their journey. When they arrived, they found everyone already gathered around the Batcomputer ready.

Damian was standing abnormally close to Bruce as if he had been hiding inside the clock beforehand. The act itself wasn’t strange or anything, for it was kind of a way of indoctrinating one into becoming a Robin and just a member of the Dark Knight’s little rag-tag team of vigilantes. No, what was surprising was the fact Damian most likely took refuge inside the endless darkness that was Batman’s cape, it would’ve been adorable to think about if it didn’t happen in (god what was happening was sad) such a depressing situation.

Babs had herself positioned in front of the main keyboard of the Batcomputer. Her fingers move quickly with elegance across the keys not once looking down to see where her fingers were landing. She was probably running the message they’d received through something, making sure there wasn’t a virus of sorts attached.

Tim and Cass were next to each other. Tim seemed to be looking over the code whilst Cass was looking at those in her proximity. She was the one to notice them.

“Jason, Duke, Steph, come quick. Babs has it ready.”

The three of them quickly made up the space between them and the rest of the family.

There had been a lot of tense silences in the past forty-eight hours, but this one, this one was just that more suffocating. It was the anticipation of knowing once they opened the message they’d know if Dick was okay. Well, they knew he wasn’t ‘okay,’ he was being held by the League of fucking Assassins and close to wherever Ra’s may be, which made it worse. No, him being ‘okay’ would mean being alive and wasn’t that just a saddening standard?

Barbara opened the message. Ra’s face illuminated the Cave.

“I was going to begin this with a greeting to you Batman, but knowing your, history let’s say, of adopting and training younger vigilantes, I’ve assumed I need to make my former plan of greeting more inclusive. Hello Gotham vigilantes.”

God, he sounded smug. It had barely been two sentences and Steph already felt aggravated, like Ra’s was above her and maybe he was, being an all-immortal being and leader of a super-secret-not-so-secret-depending-on-who-you-asked league of really dangerous assassins. Morally, Steph knew she was above him. Was she perfect? No. Did she steal people’s brothers to mess around with the people she stole the brother from? Also no, but wasn’t that a good thing?

“As I’m sure most of you know by now, a certain black and blue-dressed vigilante hasn’t been present in Gotham. I do hope you managed to figure out who has taken him to some degree. I would be quite disappointed if my daughter chose a fool to harbour any descendant of mine.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Damian take a step closer to Bruce.

“I must say Batman, you trained him well. Of course, I’ve seen those you’ve trained fight before, but to see that skill used in such a lethal manner, I’ve only seen once before.”

Steph knew it wasn’t possible. She knew this was a pre-recorded message filmed anywhere but the United States. Knew Ra’s had no knowledge if all of them would be watching the message, let alone the position of where each one of them would be standing. Even with all this knowledge, she couldn’t help but feel as if Ra’s had pointily looked in Jason’s direction. She snuck a quick glance at Jason and saw the small gap between his upper and lower lip, the way his nostrils were slightly flared, the overall look of masked horror.

Horror.

Fear. Concern. Worry. They had all been emotions expressed and poorly hidden as of late, but horror? Horror was new. And Stephanie began to feel it too.

Lethal.

The word echoed in her mind. She’d seen Nightwing fight and he was rarely lethal. Of course, his hits weren’t something you could just walk off and he also wasn’t afraid to punch harder than necessary to ensure the safety of those he deeply cared about. Maybe he threw a punch or a kick too hard every now and again and sometimes they could be lethal, but those things happen. They’re vigilantes for fuck’s sake. There are going to be times they fight in a way that would cause longer-lasting damage than they’d like.

But the way Ra’s said it, the way he looked at Jason (Steph was hoping that was a coincidence because she did not need Ra’s having foresight), and his expression, proving just how much of a bastard he was, made Steph gulp.

She’s seen Nightwing fight, she’s seen the ‘rarely lethals.’

“Though, last time it took a bit more, prompting? We’ll say, time for anything permanent to happen.”

Steph felt everyone take a collective breath of shock, fear, anything really.

Permanent?

“Permanent?” Stephanie vocalised her thoughts.

“Nightwing wouldn’t do something like that for a person like Ra’s,” Cass said.

“Not voluntarily,” Steph heard Jason mumble.

She didn’t have time to think about it.

“You mustn’t worry too badly for your Nightwing. I promise he’s only been granted a very special place for his stay. I’m sure Damian and Jason are well aware of where I’m talking about.”

Oh no.

“I congratulate you once again for the training you must’ve put the boy through, Batman. It is nice to know that a high combat level is to be expected from those mentored by you. Until we meet again.”

The message concluded.

“We need to act fast,” Jason said, suddenly.

“Wha-”

“Surprisingly, Todd is correct. We must act now,” Steph was interrupted by Damian.

“I know we need to move fast but we don’t even know where we’re going. It seems only you two know,” Duke said looking between Damian and Jason.

“Make that three,” Tim said, in Stephanie’s opinion a tad too dramatically.

Tim walked up to where Barbara was stationed, gesturing if he could use the keyboard. In response, Barbara moved her wheelchair back to be in line with Cass.

“That’s where Dick is,” Tim said after pulling up a map from one of the hundreds of Batcomputer files.

“Why would Ra’s take Dick there? He’s never shown interest in him in that way before, has he?” Babs asked.

“Because he’s bored,” Steph answered.

“Cause he can,” Jason continued.

“Because it’s Dick,” Tim finished.

“Yes, but he could’ve taken Dick anywhere. Why would Ra’s want to train Dick in such a secretive guarded location?” Barbara pondered.

“He wouldn’t,” Jason said, no longer making an effort to hide the horror on his face Steph noticed before.

“He wouldn’t what, Jason?” Duke asked.

“It’s not about training him there, well it is, but it’s about what’s there as well,” Jason replied.

No.

The pieces began to come together. Even Duke, who hadn’t that much experience with the League of Assassins, had realisation dawn on his face.

“It’s barely been forty-eight hours, Ra’s wouldn’t jump straight to that,” Steph said.

“Perhaps so, but how else would he make Richard do anything ‘permanent’,” Damian countered Stephanie’s statement.

They all looked at each other, varying levels of worry were displayed across the room.

“We all agree I’m going to be one of the ones to get Goldie, right?”

Dick was back again, in the cavern illuminated with green. Getting dunged twice so close together couldn’t be healthy.

“Honestly Richard, your attempts to control your anger have deprived you of reaching your fullest potential. When I realised Timothy wouldn’t be so easily swayed, I decided to look back on one of Deathstroke’s requests.”

Dick had been forced onto his knees before Ra’s, another sedation injected when Ra’s was pleased with the performance Dick had displaced in the training room. God, were League sedations strong.

“I am quite impressed with the control you have over the Pit side effects, Richard. However, it is stopping you from reaching your full potential and I am only here to help you,” Ra’s came closer lifting Dick’s head to face him, grabbing his chin to move his face side to side. Dick didn’t try to stop the green from coming into view.

“There’s that rage. Ready for round two?”

And as cliché as it was, Dick was pushed off the ledge into the green below.

Chapter Text

Everyone had agreed that Todd would be one of the ones to retrieve Grayson early on in their discussion. Everyone had also agreed that Damian would not be going. Damian decided he did not like that decision at all.

“You’re telling me Todd can go but I can’t,” Damian protested their decision. He’d been complaining about their attempts to more or less bench him (Damian was being dramatic, it was only this one retrieval) for so long that he was convinced that they had all collectively chosen to ignore him. Damian was highly irritated at their actions and overall felt insulted that he wasn’t allowed to get Grayson. His Batman.

What made it worst was that Todd was going and no one even looked like they considered protesting. Of course, Damian knew why there was a lack of objection to Todd going, he had had one of the more damaging effects from the Pit, he had the most experience with the Pit’s side effects and would most likely be prepared for whatever state Grayson was in. That didn’t change the fact that Todd and Grayson had a habit of bashing heads together and having two Pit Mad people (even if Jason had been able to gain more control over the Pit Rage) didn’t seem like a smart idea. Steph stepped towards Damian, pulling him away from the earshot of the other occupants in the room.

“Listen Damian, we all know you want to go, believe me, I do too, but we can’t. Some of us have to stay here. We also don’t know how dangerous it’s going to be.”

“I was trained by the League; they are no threat to my wellbeing.”

“I’m not talking about the League, Damian.”

Oh. As much as Brown enjoyed making everything a game and taking everything not as seriously as she should, Damian had learnt, just like Grayson, that when she needed to be, she was not a force to be reckoned with. And like Grayson, she was one of the only people to encourage Damian to do something less than responsible and disengage him from doing something unremarkably dangerous. Like Grayson was his Batman, Brown was his Batgirl.

And because she was his Batgirl, because he had learnt to trust her before anyone else, because she was giving him that face which she definitely learnt from Grayson, he stopped any protest to her request from leaving his mouth and said:

“I will company you in Gotham as we wait for Grayson.”

Steph smiled at him, soft and small. Then she turned back to everyone else widening her smile, not in a way that was fake but less personal, and walked back to where the rest of the family was having a heated discussion. It was yet again another disagreement about who would go find and retrieve Grayson. And it seemed to be escalating at a steady pace.

“For the last time Bruce, you can’t go and get Dick.”

“And for the last time Jason, I want a proper reason as to why other than I told you so.”

As Damian and Steph approached they slotted their way with the rest, the arguing decreased to allow everyone to look at the two.

“I have good news everyone. Tell ‘em Damian,” Stephanie turned her head to Damian, gesturing him to speak to the others.

“After much discussion with Brown, I have decided I will be staying in the Cave unless asked otherwise,” Damian looked at those in front of him.
Everyone looked rather surprised at Damian’s statement. They of course weren’t going to let him go whether he agreed or didn’t agree but the fact he was willing to stay was a shock. It was even more shocking that Stephanie of all people had managed to convince him to stay.

“However, I refuse that Todd go on a retrieval alone. He’ll probably crash the plane before he leaves the country.”

“Watch it.”

“I agree with you Damian, but Jason refuses to take anyone with him,” Bruce said looking at Damian before turning his head with a pointed look at Jason. Jason scoffed.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want anyone else to come, I’m saying you can’t,” Jason said irritated as if he’d made the argument multiple times since Damian had left the group with Stephanie.

“Don’t give me that look, Bruce. You and I both know why you can’t come. Dick and you may be on better terms these days, but we have no idea how the Pit will affect him and the last thing we want is for him getting all pissy seeing you. He might be able to control his temper how, but the Pit doesn’t allow you to do that and he must be some fucking Saint if he isn’t even mildly irritated with you sometimes.”

“If we’re talking mildly irritated, I doubt letting Jason go is a good idea.”

“Listen here, Replacement, I’m not afraid to pound Dick into the dirt if push comes to shove and I also have the best experience when it comes to the Pit. If anyone’s going to be able to bring him back, it’s me,” Jason snapped his head towards Tim squaring up to him, almost challenging him to form a counterargument. Tim didn’t have to, for Cass spoke her voice replacing the silence.

“If we want someone else to go with Jason, I will. I am not have had the worst of the side effects from the Pit, but I have experience,” Cass looked around waiting for a response.

“I don’t even need to leave the plane, I’ll just be there as backup,” Cass finalised when no one was going to give her a response. Everyone looked at one another. On one hand, it was Cass, on the other, actually, there wasn’t another, it was Cass.

“I don’t see the problem with that, it’s Cass,” Barbara said wheeling her wheelchair over to be beside Cass.

Beside him, Damian saw Steph throw a thumbs-up. If anyone was going to agree with Cass it was Steph and Barbara. They were the Batgirls. They shared and bled wearing the same mantle as the Robins had. It was a bond few would be able to understand. A connection few had with others.

“I fine with Cass going, too,” Duke spoke up, “so a vote or are we all cool with Cass accompanying Jason?” he then asked. No one protested.

“Good. Jason let’s get going,” Cass began walking to the Batplane.

“We’ll brief you in the air,” Bruce said traces of confliction about not being able to go on his face.

“’Kay. So, Cass who’s piloting this thing?”

As Dick found his body falling deeper and deeper into the Pit, he couldn’t help but find that this time it was even more unbearable. Maybe it was because this time, there was nothing to heal, only to improve. Dick needed to leave. Physically he may be able to live, but mentally he’d die if this was what Ra’s had in store for him. He needn’t to leave.

Chapter Text

Dick felt something hook the back of his Nightwing suit, pulling him out of the Pit. Whether he was conscious or not beforehand, he did not know. His sight was covered in green and he could only hear the unsteady beating of his heart and a choir of uncoordinated voices in his head.

He regained feeling across his body, feeling the rough surface of stone scratch at his skin.

“Undo his bounds.”

“Are we sure that’s wise? We don’t know-”

“If he is to wake, we needn’t fret. Ra’s has made it so we have sedations with us.”

“Are we just ignoring what he did last time?”

A pause.

“If you’re so worried, you can just give him a sedation now.”

Dick sensed as the person came to his side positioning his body in a way that allowed exposed skin to be seen. With heightened reflexes, he shot his arm up grabbing the offender by the wrist and twisting it in a way the average human body shouldn’t go. The action was followed by a sickening crack which resulted in a muffled scream. Well, it sounded muffled to Dick, but he couldn’t properly hear much of anything with the way the action had flooded his ears with the sound of bloodlust screams.

The other occupant in the cavern sprang into action jumping on Dick to try and hold him down. If he was any more aware, Dick would have found it suspicious as to why only two people were in the cavern with him. He would have found it suspicious as to why Ra’s voice hadn’t made an appearance amongst the chorus in his mind. If he was any more aware, he would have wondered just how long he’d spent in the Lazarus Pit this time.

Unfortunately, he was not.

Distantly, he heard something shatter.

“- one job.”

“- wrist broken -”

“- an excuse.”

“- contain him now?”

He took his opponents’ distraction from him as an opportunity to land some hits. Whoever had the broken wrist certainly wasn’t leaving with only that from this fight. Soon any offence attacks directed towards him were non-existent, all moves on the other end being a form of defence. A few more hits and his enemies were down. Dick didn’t waste any time celebrating, stumbling out of the cavern, and taking a left.

The green that was previously tinting his vision started to clear allowing him to stumble through the endless corridors of whatever League of Assassins base he was in with some ease. He began to slow, leaning his weight onto a wall to regain himself. With the adrenaline from before wearing out he found himself pushing his head against the wall in an attempt to distract himself from the crying voices in his mind and his deafening headache. To no one’s surprise, it did not work.

His ears picked up on heavy movements down one of the corridors he could be seen from and decided now was the time to get moving. As he aimlessly wandered through the League base he couldn’t help but wonder where Talia was. From what was known Talia had been spending most of her time in the same proximity as Ra’s so it was odd he had yet to stumble or hear of her. It wasn’t like finding Talia would be beneficial for his escape seeing that neither one of them was quite fond of the other. It occurred to Dick, that perhaps Talia didn’t even know that he was even here. Ra’s most likely took the opportunity of Talia not being here to go through with his plays knowing that she would be against them.

Dick soon found himself at the entrance of a ginormous deserted room filled with different vehicles from motorbikes to jets. He wasn’t about to look a gifted horse in the mouth and quickly made his way inside. Taking a better look at the variety of aircraft he found one that was a similar design to the Batwing. Finding his way inside, he saw that the controls were also like that Batwing’s. He began to take off steadily using his blood-covered hands to steer the jet into the air. Only then did he take a good look at his red-stained hands.

A dam of sorts broke green flooding his vision. When the colour started to subside, Dick found himself on his ass on the cockpit floor. As he looked around, he found a few good dints in the wall that weren’t there before. Panicking, he found his way back to the controls and hit the first coordinates he saw before putting the ship into autopilot.

He clumsily made his way to the bathroom at the back of the ship. As he made his way through the cargo hold, he found himself grabbing at crates to support his weight resulting in a few piles coming crashing down, which did nothing for his already paranoid state. He managed to find his way to the bathroom without destroying too much of the cargo hold.

He splashed some water onto his face and then looked at himself in the mirror. The new streak of white in the front of his hair immediately drew his attention. It wasn’t as obvious as Jason’s having formed in a way that it was layered in with his hair some strains in the area still being its natural colour. It also was positioned just left from where his hair parted in the centre of his head. Focusing his gaze on his face he found it clear of any scars.

During his time as a vigilante, Dick had mostly missed out on face injuries which he didn’t know whether to be grateful about or not depending on who complimented his face and how they complimented him. The scarring from when he was shot was gone, didn’t really matter as his bangs did a good job at hiding it however a small scar at the bottom of his chin showed no signs of even existing.

He’d gotten the scar back when he was still at the circus. He had been practising, what he was practising was long since forgotten, but it had resulted in a nasty fall causing him to splint his chin. Getting the injury checked out and stitches done had been a blur of blood, tears and comforting words, what he did remember, however, was that after the whole ordeal, the trailer he shared with his parents filled with the welcoming aroma of his Dya’s famous almond cake and he and his Dat were told they could eat it before dinner. Dya never allowed that.

Dick’s vision flared green because how dare they, how dare they, take away that from him. Dick didn’t have a lot to remember his parents by. He had a ‘Flying Graysons’ poster knelt up against the wall in his apartment and a singular picture of his parents from before he was born stored in his bedside table and that was it. He didn’t have a lot but everything he had he held dear. That scar included. And soon he realised that every scar he’d gained would be erased from his skin. Every story, every sacrifice, every save gone just like that. A part of his identity gone just like that.

Before he knew it, his vision cleared. The cargo hold was beyond saving, crates decimated around from where he was on the floor he could see shards of glass from the bathroom. Fuck that mirror anyway. Looking down at his hands he found a few cuts littering his knuckles. As sickening as it was, Dick couldn’t help but feel satisfaction as he looked over his hands. He stumbled his way to the cockpit. He had arrived in, Russia? That’s what he gets for not paying attention to coordinates he guessed. That’s okay. He’ll land then he’ll, he’ll. He didn’t know what he was going to do, just that he couldn’t go back to Gotham. Not now, not like this.

Dick took in a breath. He needed to land the plane. He could do that.

Over international waters a crew of two was informed to fly to Russia.

Chapter Text

Other than the tension from the situation at hand, the flight had been quite smooth. They weren’t anywhere near close to the location they were heading to, but they were making good time. An alert from an incoming call sounded in the ship which led to an alert Jason coming back to the cockpit with two mugs in his hands. Before Jason could hand Cass her drink, she tapped a few buttons resulting in a screening popping up with Tim’s face displayed on it.

“Oof. When I said we needed to spruce up the place I thought you’d go for a more homey feel Cass, not a theme fuelled by people’s nightmares,”

Jason smirked before taking a sip from his mug.

Cass couldn’t help the slight smirk that made its way onto her face.

“Haha. You’re a comedic genius Jason, truly,” Tim sarcastically said, face monotone.

“The bar really isn’t that high considering the people in our family, but I’ll take it.”

Tim rolled his eyes and then schooled his expression into something more serious.

“An aircraft was detected leaving the base you’re flying to. It’s advised you guys follow it,” Tim spoke over the comms.

“Okay, and where are we going for this detour?” Jason asked, looking down at a map displayed on one of the screens.

“Russia.”

“Russia!” Jason and Cass exclaimed.

“Tim that isn’t on the route to where we’re going. If we were to go to Russia, we’d have to completely change our route coursing us to lose a lot of time. Can we follow this aircraft after we get Dick?” Cass suggested. She looked over at the fuel as well to insure they had enough for the journey.

“That’s the thing, we’re pretty sure this is Dick.”

“Please enlighten us on why you think Dick’s going to bloody Russia,” Jason said. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned his body against the co-pilot’s chair.

“Babs did some analysis’ and the aircraft that took off seems to have a very similar design to the Batwing. We’ve also managed to bypass security for some files, one being the flight schedules. No authorised flights were set to leave for the past twelve hours. The same base seemed to be going into some sort of lockdown just after the plane took off. Bet you they just missed locking Dick inside,” Tim ‘enlightened’ them with the evidence as to why Dick would be the one controlling the rogue aircraft.

Cassandra looked over to Jason who shrugged.

“You’re the pilot.”

Cass faced Tim as she flicked a few switches and clicked a few buttons.

“Re-routing to Russia as we speak, we’ll contact you once we land.”

“Rouge that,” Tim replied ending the call from his end.

“Why’s he going to Russia?” Jason asked irritated. “He knows we can’t help in when he’s in Russia, right?”

“Perhaps that’s the point,” Cass looked over to Jason. As much as they all knew Jason often criticised Dick for his ‘saviour complex,’ it really was a big issue. Having a saviour complex came from being a hero so they all had one, to call Dick out on his seemed almost hypocritical. However, it did seem to come worst for Dick. Perhaps it had something to do with being one of the first in a long line of child soldiers or maybe it had existed before he chose to wear the traffic light colours for fights rather than for performing. Either way, it was there and it was a problem and as fucked up as it was, they didn’t have the heart to try and fix it. It was a constant, a regular in their irregular lives and even if they tried, Dick would never want to fix it anyway.

“Fuck Dick’s stupid saviour complex,” Jason huffed.

Yes. Fuck Dick’s stupid saviour complex, indeed, Cassandra nodded in agreement to Jason statement as she thought those words.
“What are we going to do Cass?”

“You’re the one with the most Pit experience. Did I foolishly believe you have a plan for that?” Cassandra quipped, stealing a glance over in her co-pilot’s direction. Jason let out a stifled laugh.

“I know what I’ll do there,” Jason rolled his eyes before falling into a brief silence sobering the mood. “It’s just, how do we get him home? I mean, he obviously doesn’t want to seeing as he went in the opposite direction of where he should be going.”

Cass stayed silent, trying to form the right words for want she wanted to say.

“We take our time.”

“The others won’t like that.”

“Yep. But what else do we do? We can’t force Dick to come back, not if he’s in the state we think he’s in. Look into some files. I’m pretty sure we have a few small bases in Russia. If we can’t get him to leave, we’ll at least get him somewhere safe,” Cass reassured.

“Patience is key, I guess,” Jason sighed. He started walking towards the door. “I’ll look into those bases after I get myself another coffee.”

“Ahem.”

“Ughhh. I’ll get you another cup of tea, too,” Jason walked back over to pick up her drink.

“It’s still got liquid in it.”

“It’s cold.”

“Not my problem,” Jason was right, it wasn’t his problem. But that didn’t stop her from giving him a pointed look. Jason left the cock-pit, with two mugs in his hands.

A ping sounded through the cock-pit, signalling a message had been received. Cass opened the message finding a set of coordinates as to where the rogue aircraft would be most likely landing. She smirked. Babs, you’ve done it again.

Cass increased the speed of the jet, holding on to hope that there was a base somewhere in Russia so they could refuel. They had a couple of hours till they reached the nearest set of possible landing coordinates as to where Dick may be. She set the jet into auto-pilot and exited the cock-pit.

“Jason you’ve got those files out!”

“You want tea or not!”

Dick stared at the cock-pit window, the engine of the jet long ago cooled. His brain still held the voices, but they were fuzzy now, a slight buzz at the back of his mind. He needed to do something, tell the others where he was, ensure he wasn’t followed, perhaps fly home, instead he sat staring out into the tundra. Silence was never something Dick could easily except, but right here, right now, it never felt more comforting.

Chapter Text

Jason watched as Cass landed the jet on the snowy surface. The jet jerked, the snow below providing no support nor stability for its weight. He began assessing and putting on his winter gear. Cass opened the comm line allowing a screen to come alight with Tim’s face. Behind him Barbara seemed to be discussing something with Duke regarding a piece of his Signal gear.

“We have just landed the jet just west of where we believe the League of Assassins’ jet was landed,” Cass reported.

“That’s good. One of you should stay in the jet whilst the other goes out to find Dick,” Tim replied. ‘We’ll send you coordinates to an old safehouse near the area. There’s a storm heading your way and Babs says it wouldn’t be smart to fly in it. I think the jet could take it, but I digress.”
At the mention of her name, Barbara looked towards them. “The jet could take it, but we haven’t used it for that long of a flight in about eight months, and it hasn’t gone through any recent repairs nor upgrades.” She turned back to Duke to resume their conversation.

Tim turned back to their screen and rolled his eyes. “Regardless if Babs she right about the storm or not the jet needs a refuel and the safehouse most likely contain some so it’s beneficial.”

“Thanks Tim,” Cass said. She hung up the call and turned to Jason who was doing a quick check of one of his guns before placing it in its holster.

“Since you are already ready, I’m guessing you’ll be the one to find Dick,” she spoke.

“That’ll be right captain,” Jason smirked. “You’ll need to figure out how to make your own tea.”

Childishly, Cass quickly stuck out her tongue before turning standing from her sit. Cass passed Jason which he took as a sign to follow her. She walked to the door of the cockpit out towards the back of the plane where she opened the back. Jason was hit by quick gust of wind that pieced his skin like frozen needles. “Be quick. I do not want you trying to find him in a storm.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied walking into the snow.

Jason stumbled upon the jet after near ten minutes of walking. He breathed a sign of relief. Slowly, he made his way to a surprisingly open plane. Jason narrowed his eyes at the sight before him.

The cargo hold was nothing short of ruin. Crates littered the floor with several of the content inside being disregarded on the floor. Said content looked as if an animal hand come through a ravaged it for a meal. Walls were decorated with dints and surfaces were scratched. As Jason made his way further into the plane, it became impossible to ignore the occasional bullet indented into the walls or the red that painted mirror fragments near what might have been a bathroom.

Jason placed a hand to his gun, raising it every so slightly out of its place before stopping. Was he really going to do that? Was he really going to point a gun at Dick when he sees him? It wasn’t as if Jason hadn’t done that before, so he didn’t why he was having this inner turmoil now. Perhaps it felt wrong to approach someone who’s obviously suffering with a gun at their head or perhaps Jason wouldn’t appreciate a gun at him in a situation like this and was projecting at this moment.

Jason let go of the gun.

“Come on Big Bird, make this easy and come out,” Jason’s voice echoed. He approached the cockpit. “Dick stop with this martyr complex and let me, let us help you,” he pushed at the door. Empty. The cockpit was empty.

Jason ran back to the room which he thought be a bathroom. He flung the slightly ajar door open. Glass escaped across the floor smearing more blood on the tiles. “Shit.”

Jason raced out of the jet and out into the snowy tundra. He searched around the plane before seeing fading footsteps in the snow. With nothing else to go off, he followed them into a nearby forest. The footsteps stopped at a base of a tall oak. Jason looked up to see figure sitting on one of the branches before shifting out of view.

“Dick,” Jason called. Though he was sure he had yelled out the name he could not help but feel in had whispered it and by the way Dick wasn’t responding, perhaps he had.

“Dick!” he called again, louder this time. No response. He growled he frustration and began to climb. Jason suddenly became very aware of how heavy he was, as the branches he stood upon moved and bent under his weight.

“How and why did he get up here?” Jason mumbled.

“You didn’t need to come up here,” a voice spoke. It was horse and barely a whisper. It was clear the voice had not been used for some time.

“I kinda had to,” Jason said trying to keep conversation going, “you weren’t answering me.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

“It’s not,” Dick turned to face Jason and air caught on his throat because Dick, Dick looked fine. His face was clean of anything. And only then did Jason realise his brother had eyebags. It was a subtle thing something he would have gone the rest of his life without knowing but as he looked at Dick’s face, he realised their absence. He became aware of the fact the slight shadow under his brother’s eyes was gone. It was a stupid thing to pick up on.

Despite the lack of eyebags, Jason had never seen Dick so tired. It really did make him wonder how on Earth Dick got up this tree.

“Something on my face?” Dick attempted at a joke. It fell flat, his eyes not matching the tone nor face he was trying to make.

“No. There’s nothing there,” he replied dumbly in his bewilderment state. That appeared to me the wrong thing to say.

Dick’s nostrils flared, his blue eyes drowning in green. Jason’s hand went to his gun. Is this what the others saw when the Pit took over? Jason didn’t know how to feel. He then felt incredibly guilty.

Jason saw Dick’s eyes flick towards where he lay his hand on his gun. He pulled his hand away but it was too late, Dick had seen. He turned his head away from Jason.

“Dick I-”

“It’s okay, Jay. I- I understand.”

“I should-”

“It’s fine,” Dick stated again, firmer this time. “I would’ve done the same.”

“Then you would’ve apologised straight away. Don’t tell me I’m wrong,” Jason hurried before Dick could interrupt him again. He heard a snort come from Dick’s direction. A moment of silence passed.

“I can’t go home.”

“Dick,” Jason started.

“No listen Jason. If I go home like this people are going to get hurt. The wrong people are going to get hurt. And I’ve already hurt a lot of people I just – I just can’t right now,” Dick was facing Jason now, his face pleading.

“You need to come back Dick. Everyone’s worried about you.”

“They won’t be after they’ve found out what I’ve done.”

So he killed someone, Jason thought.

“You know that’s not true.”

“It applies to Bruce.”

“He’ll come around. He came around for me,” Jason tried. It was strange. Usually Dick was the one defending Bruce now the roles were reversed.

“You’re different.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice.

“The last time I-” Dick stopped himself. He didn’t away from Jason this time just glance towards the ground.

Jason didn’t need Batman level detective training to realise what Dick meant.
He’s killed someone. Dick Grayson. Nightwing. The first Robin. The first child soldier. Had killed someone. He had killed someone without Pit influence and Jason didn’t know. And by God did Jason want to. Questions queued inside his brain ready to be answered. He wanted to poke and press. He didn’t care if he had to fight Dick for it, he wanted to know. But his want to know wasn’t as grand as his want to help his brother. So instead he said:

“Cass sent me coordinates to a safehouse so we can wait out a storm. She’s waiting for us there now and by the looks of those clouds the storm isn’t going to wait for us to get there to begin.”

Jason made his way down the tree and walked away. He couldn’t help the tension and the breath of relief leave him as he heard footsteps close behind.

Cass’s comm beeped.

I’ve got Goldie. Be there soon.

She smiled.

Chapter Text

Dick followed Jason to the base he had mentioned. Throughout the journey, Jason attempted at some small talk which was only answered with short, detached replies if he got lucky. Most of the time no sound came from Dick, but the crunching of snow beneath his feet. It was a strange sight if anyone
who knew them saw them at the moment. Roles reversed; personalities switched.

They made it to the base. It was built into the side of a snow-covered mountain, hidden by trees. Dick watched as Jason made his way to the mountain side and started knocking on it.

“Cass, storms coming,” Jason called.

Bits of rock crumbled as the door to the base slid open. On the other side stood Cassandra, the warm feeling of a heater that made Dick’s cheeks flush and the smell of mac ’n’ cheese. Cass gestured for the two to come inside. Jason journeyed further into the bunker making his way to the kitchen counter where Cass had set up three plates and a pot of mac ‘n’ cheese. Cassandra stood in front of Dick the swish of the door closing behind him. He
hadn’t even noticed her move.

“Do you want something to eat?” Cass asked. She gestured to where Jason was piling food on his plate. She looked back at him. Her expression was hopefully. He couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“I’m tired Cass. I’ll pass.”

Cassandra nodded as if she knew what his answer was going to be regardless of her hope.

“The bedroom is the door on the left. You will share with Jason.”

Dick began to leave, but he felt the slight pull of his arm, stopping him for Cass to say, “I am glad you are safe.” Safe not okay. Dick was safe not okay.
He hoped his smile was reassuring.

His ears were ringing. Someone was touching him, pulling him away from a body decorated in a mess of purple, blue and red.

“Dick, Dick. Dick. Dick!” His eyes focused.

“Tim?” What was- how and when did Tim get here?

“What did you do?” Tim looked scared. He eyed behind Dick. He followed his eyes.

“Wha-” There lying unmoving on the floor lay the Joker. His green hair was now dyed red. The Joker’s limbs were positioned at unnatural angles and his face was bruised and broken to the point he was near unrecognisable. Except for his bright red lips that even in death held its taunting smile. Within in his smile the Joker was missing a few of his pearly whites. Dick felt giddy; he didn’t know if it was from the smell or his own sick satisfaction.

A shadow loomed over Dick and only then did he notice Tim had vanished. Batman stood above him.

“What have you done?” Anger coated his words hitting Dick harder than any fist.

Green crept into Dick’s vision. No, not now. Not in front of him.

“Bruce it’s the Joker-”

“The Joker? Nightwing that is not the Joker!”

“What do you mean?” Dick was turning back to the Joker before Bruce could offer an answer but, Bruce was right. It wasn’t the Joker. It was the League of Assassin member. The one with the broken neck.

Dick felt the fist in his back.

“Bruce what-”

“You’re unstable Nightwing. This for the safety of everyone.”

The green inched further and further into Dick’s vision. He grabbed his head pulling at his hair.

“No, no. Shut up, shut up. Shut up!” He reached forward trying to find anything to grab. He felt something else grab his hand. The little hold he had on control was gone the green taking over.

“Dick! Calm down, okay. Breathe, breathe.”

Just as quickly as the green came it was gone. It left him against the floor a heavy weight above him.

“You back Big Bird?”

Jason. It was Jason. He tried to get up.

“Woah, woah. I asked a question. You back Big Bird?”

“Yes,” Dick replied. His throat felt raw as if he’d been screaming. He felt as Jason moved himself off from on top of him. As he got up in saw that their shared room was in ruin. They sat on the floor amongst the chaos for a bit in silence. Silence that Jason decided to break.

“Bruce ay?”

Dick looked up.

“You kept yelling Bruce’s name,” Jason hesitated before he continued, “and the Joker.”

Dick felt the green slip back into view.

“Hey, hey, don’t go all Pit mad on me again dude.”

“Where’s Cass?”

“Answer the question Dick.”

“Where is she?”

“Out bringing the jet closer to the base. Now answer the question.”

“No one ever told you?” Dick questioned.

The look on Jason face answered his question. Dick took a deep breath.

“When you were,” Dick took gulped, “dead, the Joker went on a rampage. Thought he was about to die and made it everyone’s problem,” Dick couldn’t stop his smile when Jason snorted at his statement. “I thought he killed Tim,” his voice wavered. “I let my anger get the best of me. I did stop but then he, mentioned you,” Dick looked up at Jason. His face looked conflicted with emotion. “I don’t remember anything in between but what I do remember is when Tim got me off the Joker he was dead.”

“It didn’t stick.”

“It would’ve if Bruce came later.”

“What? Bruce resurrected that monster!” Jason abruptly stood up. “When we get back, I swear to god I’ll-”

“Jason don’t.”

“Don’t what. We’re in the same boat right now. You obviously hate him for it. Why else would the pit show you that?”

Dick snapped. “Of course I hate him for it. I despise him every day for what he did but punching him isn’t going to do anything. Can we not talk about this now when I’m like this?”

Jason looked regretful before schooling his expression over. He nodded dropping the subject.

“You should grab something to eat, Cass will be here soon.”

Dick nodded. He stopped short of the door and watched as Jason cleaned some things off the floor. He should say something, anything. Instead he left to find any spare food in the kitchen. Dick had a whole plane ride to talk.

A message signaled in the Batcave. A craft was about to enter.

Chapter Text

Alfred would like to think of himself as an observant person. You tend to become one after working and living with the Batman for as long as he has. But he was also the boy’s father of sorts for a long time, and being a parent often gave one the skills to notice things, to most unnoticeable, especially about your kids. Although none of the children were not technically his kids, Alfred still helped raise them to the point – though not said aloud – the children viewed him as a grandfather.

This advanced knowledge of knowing almost everything about the children, from their favourite breakfast food to their greatest fears, helped him understand that allowing Master Dick to hide away in his room in the Manor and train excessively in the Batcave was a horrible decision. Master Dick had not once outright said he wanted to be left allow, but the family seemed to have collectively decided that that is what he wanted after seeing him almost instantly walk away from everyone after a brief welcome home. So the eldest was left alone for a week or so.

Alfred was not going to allow his eldest grandson to simply walk away from his problems. Not again. It would only lead to more pain and strain on the family and, by God, was Alfred going to prevent that, as selfish as it seemed.

He walked down into the Batcave to the distant sound of the swing of rope and light landing of someone dropping to the padded floors of the Batcave’s gym. As he walked, he noticed the inside of the Batwing from where the cargo door was open. Jason and Cass hadn’t said much about the flight home only that Dick had had an episode and put a few dents in the wall of the jet. They both seemed to both block any view of the jet when everyone came over and Alfred could see why.

It wasn’t anything major, the Batwing had seen worse, but it was enough to worry whether Cass or Jason got hurt or not.

Soon Alfred rounded a corner to where Master Dick was sitting on the floor rubbing his foot.

“Foot cramp, Master Dick?” Alfred asked. The boy in questions head shot up and for the briefest moment Alfred so beautiful blue turn neon green as if it never existed.

“Alfred, sorry I didn’t notice you were there,” Alfred sightly raised his eyebrow. Dick didn’t notice him coming. Odd. “What are you doing down here?” Dick continued as he made haste to get up and head out of the gym.

“To check up on you Master Dick, why else?” Alfred said as he watched Dick begin to leave.

His steps halted to a stop.

“I - I’m okay Alfred,” his voice was small as he replied he didn’t turn to face him as he spoke.

“Are your quite sure, Master Dick? For the last time I checked locking yourself away from your family is not something an ‘okay person’ does,” Alfred replied keeping a neutral expression.

“Alfred, this isn’t something new. We do this all the time; you know nothing comes from this.”

“Is that right? Nothing bad comes from this. Maybe no one says aloud the negative impact not communicating with everyone has on them, but I assure you, Master Dick, everything bad comes from doing this,” Alfred expressed. Dick had turned to face him now, nothing on his face told Alfred anything except for the fact he was tired. That was something, as Dick put it, that was nothing new, but now it seemed more prominent.

“You have no idea how worried we were,” Alfred paused, “how worried I was,” Dick’s expression lost its blankness, his eyes going glossy. “But I was not just worried this time. I worry at every broken comm, every failed mission, every wound fatal or not. But I also worry about every simple patrol, every team meeting and successful mission. I worry every time any of you put on those suits,” Alfred felt his cheeks dampen. “I wait for you. I have everything I need to set the table for nine, I don’t want to set for any less.”

Before he had time to process, Alfred was engulfed in a hug.

“I’m sorry Alfred,” Dick sniffed. He has his head on his shoulder and every so often Dick’s shoulders would jerk a little from soft sobs.

And suddenly a grown man wasn’t the one sobbing on Alfred’s shoulder, but instead an eight-year-old. An eight-year-old who barely made it past Alfred’s waist. An eight-year-old who had just had his entire world changed and flipped on its head. Despite everything. The fighting, the pain, the laughs, the tears, the smiles, he was still the same Dick. Still the same in all the ways it mattered. And even if he wasn’t, he was alive, and that was Alfred cared for.

“Talk to me,” Alfred near pleaded.

“It’s too much. I’m hearing voices in my head and voices around me. The lights are too bright. Everything is too much. One minute I’m here, the next an hour passed, and I haven’t even noticed. Sometimes my movements are not my own, but I know they are and I just can’t – I’m suffocating.”

Sobs turned to gasps and soft jerks turned to full body flinches. And not for a second did Alfred let go.

They stood like that, just the two of them for a while before Alfred spoke.

“The others have left on patrol, something about letting Master Duke experience the wonders of the Gotham night,” Alfred pulled away to look at Dick, a smiled had graced his face from the comment. “It is just me in the Manor, I would appreciate the company.”

Alfred moved to exist the Batcave and passed Dick. Alfred wasn’t surprised as footsteps followed behind him.

As they walked down the halls of the Manor, Alfred turned towards the hall containing the children’s bedrooms and stopped in front of Dick’s.

“Alfred –”

“Are there any dishes in there, Master Dick?”

Dick’s ears turned red as he went to open the door. Before he turned the handle, he looked at Alfred.

“I will wait here,” he stated

Dick opened the door only enough to squeeze through and immediately shut it behind him. However, Alfred did catch a glance at the state of his room even though it was dark he saw how things were on the floor that were not there before. The chair in the corner was on the floor and someone had been bashing at the walls. When Dick emerged with a pile of plates in his hands, Alfred did not mention what he saw. One step at a time. Instead he said:

“All these plates and not a single glass. Dehydration would be a poor way to go Master Dick.”

“I’ve been drinking from my water bottle which I keep in my room. Water is important in keeping good skin, I wouldn’t skip drinking it,” he flashed a smile. It was nothing big nor fancy. It was perfect.

“Come Master Dick, those are not the only dishes that need cleaning.”

Chapter Text

To say Damian was surprised to find Richard casually reading in the living-room was neither an understatement nor overstatement. It was only natural has the Manor was Richard’s home and he had a right to go wherever he pleased but it certainly felt odd. Odd as he had been avoiding them all for a week which was the fault of no one, and everyone just let him be. So, seeing him out in the open like nothing had happened was, unsettling.

He looked relaxed, like actually calm not stressed kind of relaxed, which now Damian thought of it, had never truly seen Richard this way before. Damian remembered the discussion they had when Todd and Cassandra arrived home and Richard had left to begin his week-long self-enforced isolation.

“Remember, to make yourselves known. The Pit has a way of messing up people’s senses and jump-scaring him may cause him to lose control and attack you,” Todd stated.

“I thought the Pit enhanced, though,” Drake questioned.

“I say fifty-fifty,” Todd shrugged, “honestly depends, I mean look at Cass and I. Name one thing we have in common thanks to the Pit.”

Damian cleared his throat louder than what could be deemed natural. Richard looked up from his book and gave Damian a smile.

“What’s up, Dami.”

It was so causal, like nothing had happened, like Richard hadn’t been locking himself away for the past week. It was torturous. Damian knew he wasn’t okay, everyone knew he wasn’t okay, yet he was putting on this performance that he was. You can take the boy out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the boy, Damian thought.

“Alfred informed us that you had emerged from the spaces of which you’ve been hiding,” Dick lowered his head sheepishly and continued to ‘read’ his book, “and said we would be able to find you somewhere in the Manor with public access.”

A beat of silence.

“How was patrol?”

He was stalling. That was fine, Damian was a trained assassin, he could wait.

“It was interesting. Thomas wasn’t as incompetent as I expected.”

“Duke’s a Bat just like any of us. Just because he takes daytime patrols doesn’t mean he’s any less skilled.”

“I figured you would say something like that. Gotham at that time of day is near peaceful. Thomas was partnered up with me and he showed me one of his
favourite spots to just sit.”

Dick looked up and placed his book down onto the table then made room on the couch. “Tell me about.” He patted the spot next to him inviting Damian to sit.

Damian walked over and placed himself on the couch. He wiggled a bit to find a more comfortable position even if this sit-down conversation would not be held for an extended amount of time.

“It is this small bakery I have never heard of, Thomas said it was a family run one which has been around for a decade or so. It is nothing like Wayne Enterprises’ tower although it is in one of the neighbourhoods where crime is at a lower rate,” Damian looked over at Dick who was watching him with interest and nodded at him to continue. “I asked Thomas why here of places and he replied with, ‘I like the view’. Now, I wanted to ask, ‘what view’ but he was already sitting down and saying things like ‘we’re right on time’ so naturally I sat down as well.”

“What was the view?” Dick asked.

“It is quite clique Richard, see Duke brought me there to look at the sunset, but as time went on I could see why. The sun goes down perfectly down the middle of the street and I looks as if it is a painting, honestly I’ll have to take you there Richard. It shocked me how something so beautiful could be right here in Gotham.”

“You’ll be taking daytime shifts now is what I’m hearing.”

“Absolutely not. The criminals are even more of an insult and waste of my skills then those in my regular patrols, though I might occasionally accompany Thomas.”

The two of them sat there for awhile in the silence and the comfort of each other. It was strange to Damian. Dick was usually the one to strike up conversation and keep it going and Damian had said all he had came to say and the other more serious topics he wanted to discuss weren’t forming properly in his mind and would certainly not convey want he wanted to say if he spoke them out loud to Richard.

Damian decided to take a page out of Richard’s book.

“Thomas told me why he likes that place so much too.”

Stalling.

“He said, the bakery was a favourite for his parents and him to go to even though it was about a thirty-minute walk from where they lived and there were a few bakeries closer by. He explained that they went there because his parents thought it was the best bakery in town and he agreed with them, but in figured out it was because the walk was so long which meant they had more time together.”

Damian finally figured out how to say what he was feeling to Dick. “He thought it was stupid more than once because they would always go on Thursday afternoons after he was out of school so he was tired and would be in a sour mood. Or one time it rained, and they had to run and walk because they didn’t bring umbrellas. They would even go if they’d got into a fight because by the end of it their anger towards one another would be overpowered with the sweetness of cake and laughter.”

He looked Dick directly in the eyes. “Duke told me,” he ignored the slight smile on Richard’s face at him using first names, “that he wished in treasured those moments more and knew he didn’t at the time because he thought there would always be a next time, because there always was a next Thursday. He never thought any of those Thursdays would be his last and then there was.”

“Dami-”

“You can’t keep hiding Richard because of this one bad thing. You can’t keep hiding from me, or father, or Pennyworth or anyone.”
Silence had never felt so loud.

The fresh air from the open windows had never been so suffocating.

Green had never been a more dangerous colour. It swirled around in Dick’s eyes clashing with blue, a battle for power.

Damian worried he over-stepped.

Dick closed his eyes and lent his head back against the couch backing. When he turned his sat back up and turned towards Damian, eyes opened, the only thing abnormal about him were the layered streak of white in his hair.

“Okay. I promised Alfred and I will promise you, too. I promise as best I can, I will not hide.”

Damian gave a quick nod and stood up from the couch. He turned to Dick and gestured for him to follow.

“We are having a family movie night, and Cassandra and I were tasked by Alfred to get everyone in the theatre, I have already wrangled Stephanie, Thomas and Gordon and Cassandra is finding the others.”

“Snacks?”

“Pennyworth is supplying them.”

Dick clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “We are in for a feast.”

They walked towards the theatre the sound of chatter filled the hall to word the room. A debate was happening. A debate for the movie to watch. He looked over to Dick who seemed to be deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about, Richard?”

“I was just wondering, what was the name of the bakery in were talking about?”

“Ummm, Destiny's Food, I am pretty sure, why?”

“Cool, you’re free Thursday afternoon right?”

“I’m pretty sure everyone’s free.”

“Excellent,” with that Dick concluded the conversation with a smile as they entered the theatre.

For a second Damian thought there would be an awkward pause, but the Bats naturally were ever ready for anything and as they made themselves known to the other occupants of the room Stephanie yelled, “Dick you agree with me that we have to watch ‘Barbie in A Mermaid Tale’.”

“Steph you are an absolute fool why would you choose that over ‘Pride and Prejudice’,” Jason yelled.

Damian saw Dick take a sit besides Tim who had already began to eat one of the bowls of popcorn as he comically looked back and forth as Jason and Stephanie fought. Everyone knew the real show had already begun.