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Chapter Text

“Move in.” Batman’s low growl crackled over the coms. Dick lifted the window panel in front of him silently. He’d been called in to help round up Scarecrow, who was said to be setting up his usual toxin shop in the warehouse they were now invading.

Dick landed in a crouch on the upper level soundlessly. He saw Red Robin on the lower level, Batman and Robin probably entering from the back. He nodded at Red, though the younger did not return the gesture or acknowledge him at all, and then approached the first hallway. He cleared it, reporting the empty barrels of chemicals.

“Rebreathers.” Came the order, Dick already had his on; despite being pretty immune to the gas, it didn’t hurt to be safe.

There was a hiss as the speakers came to life and the sickening, high-pitched voice of Scarecrow flooded the space. “Oh, goody, here come the bats and birds. I hope they’re not too scared to play!” There was a grunt over the coms. Nightwing froze at the sound.

“Red Robin, check in,” Batman ordered. Nightwing turned to sprint back to the main room, a growing feeling of unease forming in his gut. The quiet grunt turned to shouting, Batman and Robin joining in on whatever Red had gotten into.

Right before Dick exited the hallway, a giant slab of solid concrete slammed down in front of him, forcing him to flip backwards to avoid being crushed. Cutting Nightwing off from his group. “Shit, guys, something's not right. Get out now!” He tapped his com, the familiar feeling of panic spreading in his chest. But his com just responded with feedback.

Dick crinkled his nose as the hall flooded with a sweet smell. Shit. Dick quickly placed an explosive wingding on the wall, running back to avoid as much of the blast as possible. Dark spots appeared on the edges of his vision, the rebreather only able to filter so much with no supply of fresh oxygen.

The explosion shook the walls around him, but did little to bring down the wall. Dick leaned against the wall in an effort to remain standing. He tried to move towards the wall, but the world spun, and his efforts to remain standing failed him. In a last measure before darkness overtook him, Dick pressed his panic button on the inside of his wrist.

. .

Nightwing woke with a gasp, taking in the fresh air (as fresh as you can get in Gotham) in quick gulps. He sat straight up, attempting to rub the sore spot where he landed on his shoulder after fainting, but was prevented due to the cuffs around his wrists that had him chained to the floor in front of him. He groaned, testing the strength of the metal. It was solid, and he doubted he’d be able to escape that way.

Dick looked around the room. His gear was still in place, as was his mask. Meaning their captures were stupid and overly confident, or they were convinced Nightwing wouldn’t get a chance to use it. He looked around the room; there was nothing in it, and three of the walls were a plain hospital white. The wall in front of him, however, was entirely glass, but Dick could not see to the other side. He raised his brow, wondering what Scarecrow needed a two-way window for. There was a door to his left, solid metal with no window. 

He stood, dragging the chain with him as he approached the glass wall. It wasn’t long enough for him to reach it, but just barely. He tried the door with the same effect.

Nightwing chose a spot as far away from the door as he could get, sitting cross-legged. He sighed heavily, hoping his distress signal had been successfully activated and that the rest of his family was okay.

He didn’t know how long he sat there; he was about halfway through counting the bricks that lined the walls when there was the sound of a speaker coming to life. Dick tensed and then forced himself to relax as Scarecrow’s voice filled the room.

“Well, well, Nightwing! I hope your stay has caused a fright! Though don’t panic, there is still much to fear coming near!” Nightwing rolled his eyes at the fear jokes; they weren’t even original anymore.

“Where are the others, Crane?” Dick spoke in a hard and demanding voice, hoping he wasn’t talking to an empty room where no one could hear him. But it seems Scarecrow could.

“No need to fear, they are here.” There was a chuckle, and Dick’s attention snapped to the glass wall as it turned transparent, and he saw Batman, Red Robin, and Robin each tied up in their own chair, facing the glass wall. Dick’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight.

Dick did a quick study of his family; none seemed to be critically injured, though Red Robin was leaning on his left side more heavily than he should be. Hinting at an injury to the right side of his body, possibly his ribs, if it was painful while sitting. 

The same feeling of dread from before grew in Dick’s stomach. While the others were set up in a spectator position, he was… on the stage. His heart skipped a beat. He made eye contact with Bruce, who tapped the chair a few times. Signaling that help was on the way.

A shadow appeared from behind the sitting bats. Scarecrow clapped his hands together to draw attention to himself. “Now then! Let’s not delay! I fear we may not have all day!”

“What do you want?” Robin spoke through gritted teeth. Dick could see the youngest of their group slowly twisting his wrists and ankles in an attempt to loosen his restraints.

Scarecrow stalked over to Damian, sighing heavily and pulling a pistol from his robes. “Are you scared, little bird?” There was a chorus of shouting as the bats told him to put the gun down. Nightwing had moved as close to the window as he could, ignoring the sharp pain in his wrist as he tugged on his restraints. “Mmm. Seems they are.” Scarecrow laughed, but kept the gun pointed at Robin’s head.

Dick’s head jerked to the side as the door opened. Two overly muscular men, dressed similarly to Crane, approached Nightwing. He bent his knees, ready to fight against them, but Crow caught his attention again, “Uh uh, don’t you want the little to return to the nest?” He pressed the tip of the weapon against Damian’s temple, who let out a string of curses and insults at the man.

Nightwing muttered a curse under his breath, but relaxed his stance. Each man took one of his arms and forced him to kneel in the center of the room, facing the window. Dick blew some of his hair out of his face. He really needed a haircut, but it’s not like he could go to Alfred’s salon. Since he hadn’t been to the manor in almost three months, he pushed the thought from his mind, “If you wanted a performance, Crow, all you had to do was ask.” Dick smirked, pretending he didn’t hear the ‘tsk’ from someone on the other side of the glass.

Someone forced him to look at the ceiling by tugging on his hair, a slight grunt escaping his lips. “I hope you don’t get stage fright, boy wonder!” Dick tried to move his head to look at him, but was forced to stay still. “Resist and I pick a bat to splat!” Nightwing gritted his teeth and froze, his heart beating fast. There was only one thing Scarecrow wanted to inflict. Fear.

In his head, Dick was grateful he was the one in the hot seat. He always had a harder time watching his loved ones be in pain than taking the pain himself. That face was one of the leading reasons behind almost everything he does. Furthermore, he and Bruce have been testing his level of resistance to Scarecrow's fear gas, and compared to the others- even Bruce- he was the best option for this.

Another goon entered the room, carrying a tray, but with the angle his head was being held at, he couldn’t see its contents. Crow was moving back and forth behind the vigilantes now, swinging the gun from one head to the next. Dick didn’t move, despite his neck protesting the position. “Word going around, Nightwing, is that you seem to be less… influenced by my fear gas than most.” He chuckled, tapping Batman’s shoulder casually with a long, bony finger. “I suppose you might’ve built up a tolerance over the years, so you inspired me to make a little concoction designed to clip your wings specifically.” Dick tensed, now very aware of the long syringe the goon not holding him had in his hand.

The air became tense as Batman spoke, “Crane. You don’t want to do this. Come quietly before you do something you’ll regret.” Dick could tell his jaw was tense from how he spoke. Worried about whatever substance they were about to subject his oldest to.

“Are you afraid, Batman?” Scarecrow’s voice was teasing, “I’ve put too much work into this to back down now! Those little viles are going to be the future of fear! Stronger hallucinations of your greatest fears, more adrenaline, longer-lasting effects!”

As he spoke, the goon kneeled in front of Dick and placed a headband-shaped device on his head, sat across his forehead, and stuck to his temples. Nightwing didn’t resist, nor did he when the needle was jammed into his neck.

Nightwing’s eyes went wide, and he gasped as his heart immediately kicked into overdrive- he gasped for air as the world spun. He was vaguely aware that Crow was still speaking, gloating about whatever horrors he was about to experience. Dick felt his hands being released, and the hands holding him up left. 

He fell backwards onto his back. There was a muffled sound- maybe someone calling out for him? He stared at the ceiling and tried to slow his breathing. He clutched his chest, forcing air through his nose and out his mouth. Just like he’d been trained to do.

Dick sat up slowly, blinking rapidly as the lights seemed to shine much brighter than a moment ago. He reached up to feel the band on his head, but couldn’t remove it. He noticed that the glass wall seemed to be gone. Dick’s heart skipped a beat as he lost sight of his family. He crossed his legs and clutched his knees, closing his eyes in an attempt to meditate through the toxin.

“Oh, my baby boy.” Dick’s eyes shot open at the sound of his mother’s voice. Mary Grayson stood across the room from him, wearing her Flying Grayson uniform. She smiled softly at Dick.

Nightwing stood, taking a step forward before he could think about it. He froze as John Grayson appeared next to his mother. “My son.” The words were spoken in English, but his parents’ heavy accent- just as he remembered them- was still there. John’s outfit matched his wife’s.

Despite knowing they weren’t real, Dick whispered to them, “Mami? Tati?” He took another step, even if it wasn’t real, the temptation to feel those arms wrapped around him one more time-

His mother gasped as he came closer, her hand going to cover her mouth. “Kon si kadava? [Who is this?]”

Dick moved faster, his feet dragging him closer to them. “Mami! Tati! It’s me!”

John moved both of them back a little, both their eyes wide in shock, “Tu na dikhes sar amaro Dickie. [You don’t look like our Dickie.]”

Dick froze, absently reaching for them both. “Me sem! Me sem! Si me! Tyo tikno robin! [I am! I am! It is me, your little Robin!]”

“Oh na zhanav... [Oh, I don’t know…]” Mary’s eyes drifted down to Dick’s hands. He followed her gaze and gasped, taking a step back from them.

His hands were slick and wet with blood- fresh, impossibly red blood. It coated him up to his elbows, dripping on the floor and onto his feet. Dick resisted the urge to vomit at the sight. John was shaking his head, “Our Dickie, our Robin-” tears were streaming down his face, Dick noticed with horror-

His mother approached him, also crying, but her gaze remained soft even as she spoke, “Savo legato si kado? [What legacy is this?]” She motioned to the growing pool, “Na, na, nashti te aves amaro Dickie. [No, no, you cannot be our Dickie.]

Even though he knew the words were not real, that his own brain was playing on his greatest insecurities, he couldn’t stop the tears that came. He told himself that it was the toxin; he knew he should be better, have better control of what his own mind could do to him-

Mary crouched beside him, not laying a hand on Dick or comforting him in any way- because he ruined their legacy, Dick told himself. 

Because he took something pure and magical and tainted it. With blood. With all the harm he’s caused. He was nothing but a disappointment to them- the last of the Flying Graysons had fallen a long time ago- before Spyral- before the Syndicate- before Blockbuster and Tranchula- 

Maybe he’d never really been flying- not since that night- not since his parents' bodies were never to fly again-

“You are poison.” Dick gasped and jerked away from his mother- Mary’s voice twisting as her body did- morphing into someone else- 

Dick scrambled backwards as far as he could, his back colliding with the brick wall. He shut his eyes tight, forcing steady breaths through his body. He shoved his head between his knees; his breath was too fast- it wasn’t real. It was just the toxin- he couldn’t be back there- 

His entire body shuddered as he started to feel the rain- he gasped as the cold drops made contact with his back, sending a chill down his spine-

There was a hand on his shoulder- Dick jerked to throw it off- “No.” He tried to keep his voice level and firm, as if he could will away the toxin in his system. “No.” He repeated, this time louder.

He was on a roof- there was the smell of gunpowder and blood in the air- he backed up to the ledge- his back hitting the wall- but it wasn’t a low-berring wall on a roof, it was a tall brick wall, right, because this wasn’t real- she wasn’t real-

She laughed with ease, her bright orange and black suit shining in the dark of the night. “No need to be afraid, mi amor. You enjoyed it last time…” She moved towards him, she grabbed his wrists and pulled them, breaking the protection he had crafted for himself-

His hands trembled, the suit was sticking to his body- his breathing was too fast- she would do it again- he had to stop her-

This time, he wouldn’t let that happen again- it was his fault there was blood on his hands- his fault she happened- his fault for not fighting back- for stepping aside-

“We’re alive, he can’t hurt us anymore.” She was closer now, a hand reaching for his upper arm-

Nightwing leaped to the side- pushing her away, hard. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Something crashed into him, sending him to the ground- she was holding his arms- “NO!” He wailed, kicking and attempting to throw her off- he couldn’t- he wouldn’t let it happen again-

There was pressure as someone sat over his hips- trapping his legs- Dick’s eyes went wide with fear- he couldn’t breathe- everything was blurry- he lurched forward in an attempt to head butt her-

There was a sharp crack as Dick’s vision whited out for a few seconds. She fell to the side, clutching her head. Dick scrambled to his feet, moving as far away from her as possible. He was still breathing rapidly, moving as far into the corner of the room as he could. His head was pounding, and he reached up, and his hand came back bloody.

He tried to steady himself with the wall, moving away from her- he didn’t make it far before he found himself sliding down the wall. Somehow, she had moved to stand right next to him. Dick gasped, lifting his hands in defense. “Please, just- no- I don’t- not again-” he gulped in air, trying to slow down his breathing. In the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t real- she wasn’t really there- but-

The weight on his hips- the pinning of his arms- it all felt so real- 

There was a sharp prick on the side of his neck. Nightwing gasped, his hand moving to the spot- but the movement was sluggish- he felt his body tip to the side, but found he had no energy to catch himself-

Dick tried to tug on the ends of his hair, but the movement was caught by the band of metal secured to his forehead. He paused, tracing the edge across his face.

He was vaguely aware of Catalina’s form shifting and changing in his peripheral vision- he grabbed the edges, digging his nails under the device and pulled- there was yelling, but he didn’t care- he had to get it off-

“Nightwing!” Dick’s head jerked up at the sound of Batman’s voice.

Dick felt himself sigh with relief, dropping his hands, “B? Is it over?”

Batman kneeled in front of him, checking him over for injuries, everything he would normally do. “No. It’s not. Stay awake.” Dick tensed as his father reached for the dev-

For the cowl. Dick blinked. Then he blinked again. He didn’t feel drenched anymore, or like his suit was going to suffocate him, but there was no ease of the panic in his chest.

Bruce pushed down the cowl, his own already hanging at his back. Dick wanted to laugh at the pair, both of whom were wearing their respective Batman costumes. But he never felt like laughing in this particular suit. He hadn’t needed his since- since Bruce came back- why would-

It was then that he noticed the various injuries and damage Bruce was sustaining on his own armor. Dick’s stomach lurched. They were kneeling on the ground, Bruce’s hand cupping his face gently. There was a pool of blood spreading around the tree. Dick felt the warmth on his knees. Bruce gasped wetly, red coating his lips- Dick searched for a wound to treat-

“Dick, look at me.” Another wet cough. “Look at me, chum.” Dick grabbed his father’s wrist, tears already falling down his face- he did as Bruce asked.

“Please, don’t go-” Bruce hushed him. Reality setting in for both of them.

Dick’s heart rate spiked as Bruce spoke. “Gotham-” A coughing fit caused Bruce to halt-

“I can’t-” Nightwing asked, desperation creeping into his voice- he didn’t know what was happening- how had Bruce gotten injured? Where were the others-

Bruce spoke with determination, seemingly having made up his mind about what he was going to say, “Gotham needs Batman. Batman needs you.” His words were slurred, blood leaking from the corner of his lips. 

Nightwing sobbed; he didn't want this. He did not want to wear the cowl, he didn’t know if he could do that again- “B, I can’t- please-”

Bruce grabbed his other wrist, using it to keep them upright, “They need you-” There was a choking sound- they didn’t have much time-

“No! You promised!” Dick wanted to shake the man before him, wanted to scream until he continued to breathe- “You said you wouldn’t leave me again-” His voice lowered, almost to a whisper as the light faded from Bruce’s eyes.

Dick watched, his chest tightening, “You can’t- I can’t do it, B, I can’t be Batman- not again- I failed- please, don’t go-” His voice cracked.

He felt the darkness on the edge of his blurry vision, and even then, he continued to beg, to plead for Bruce to stay- to wake up-

He saw various bodies moving around him- he reached up for the cowl- a mask he swore never to wear again- the burden having taken everything he had to give- how was he supposed to do that again? Bruce swore- he promised he would never put him in that position again-

Dick was grateful when the sweet silence and thoughtlessness of unconsciousness came to claim him as he hiccupped and sobbed- his body aching for rest- though his dreams would prove counterproductive in that effort.

Chapter Text

“I still don’t see why we’re calling Nightwing in. Hood is closer.” Tim scoffed as he collapsed his bostaff and attached it to his gear.

Damian, who was next to Tim in the Batcave and also attaching various weapons to his body, clicked his tongue. “Richard obviously provides a strategic advantage due to his superior skills.” Damian retorted. They had just completed a briefing on the mission they were about to embark on.

Batman, who was already suited up, powered up the Batmobile and glanced over his shoulder. “Nightwing also is largely immune to Scarecrow's Fear Toxins, giving us an added advantage.”

Tim paused, mentally cataloging the new information into the files of his brain. “Wish he was immune to lying.” The detective mumbled under his breath.

Damian moved towards Father; apparently, Drake was in a mood as Richard often referred to them as. Though this mood has lasted since Richard’s return from his undercover mission into the organization, Spyral, which was almost four months ago.

Normally, Damian would be inclined to comment on Drake’s state and the ridiculousness of the grudge, but alas, Richard had asked him to hold his tongue and to work on being nicer to his brother. So Damian held his tongue. For now. Even as Drake continued to be dramatic to the point of driving Richard away.

Damian would never admit it, but he missed his big brother- his Batman. Since Richard’s return, Damian has seemed to be the only bat that welcomed the acrobat back with open arms. It was a mission, Richard explained that he had been in a unique position (being dead to the world), and it was necessary to take advantage of the opportunity. Damian understood. But that didn’t mean that it hurt any less.

The family had mourned their oldest. They grieved, they visited his grave, and they nearly fell apart with the profound loss. Except… Richard hadn’t been dead. There were not a lot of details, but Damian heard Tim talking with Brown about how Richard’s death had been staged. Richard never refuted the statement, and neither did Father.

Damian sighed in the back seat. He understood that his family was hurt by Richard's actions, but to him, Richard’s death and the process to grieve him- his Batman- had hurt a whole lot more than learning the death was staged and that Richard had lied. Because he was alive. They’d spent almost a year believing Richard to be dead, but he came back. Hence why his siblings' persistence of anger for their brother was so confusing to him.

Thinking Richard was dead had been painful, awful. Learning he was not- if Damian was willing to admit he processed the ability to feel joy, he would describe it as such.

Once more, Richard’s acceptance of his family’s reactions was confusing. Nightwing was not one to back down from a fight or a conversation, no matter how painful either of those might be. But he was avoiding everyone, the manor, Gotham, even Damian.

What felt worse was the fact that the rest of their family seemed content with letting Richard pull away and retreat. Damian was not. He glanced out the window of the Batmobile as they neared their destination, a glint of determination in his eyes.

. .

They parked the Batmobile a few blocks away from the warehouse they were targeting tonight. Nightwing was already waiting in the alley, leaning against his bike. He waved as they parked.

As they exited, Batman went over the plan once more, Nightwing nodding along thoughtfully. Damian planted himself next to Nightwing, pretending to be annoyed when the elder ruffled his hair affectionately. The talk gave Damian time to really look at his older brother for a moment.

They have hardly seen each other since Richard’s return. Robin has noticed the significant decrease in the amount of time Grayson has been spending at the manor, i.e., none. His older brother looked thinner, his skin was pale, and he was shifting his weight, indicating that he was nervous.

As Damian studied Richard, he noticed the slump in his shoulders and the fatigue-ridden limbs he carried. The young assassin scrunched his nose. Richard has not been sleeping well. He decided to ask him about it after their mission. Surely he knew the importance of adequate rest to be at one’s best for patrol- he must because he instilled the very principle into Damian during their time as Batman and Robin.

Damian also noticed how Richard kept glancing at Drake, who was purposely avoiding looking at or speaking to Nightwing, as Batman spoke. As if trying to gauge Red Robin’s emotional state from across the alleyway.

As they headed for the roofs, they were about to break off so as not to alert the enemy to their approach when Drake commented. “Don’t die.” While it was directed at everyone, Damian did not miss the way Richard tried (and failed) to suppress a flinch.

. . 

Tim forced himself to take a deep breath as he woke to find himself tied to a chair by his wrists and ankles. He looked up at the ceiling and mentally counted to 20 and then did it backwards as his heart beat quickened. He did not have time for this.

He already was being forced to work with Nightwing- who he could barely stand to be in the same room with at the moment- and now he was tied to a chair. Instead of being at home, studying for his chemistry test tomorrow. He sighed, wishing he had made Red Hood take his place tonight. After all, the crime lord still owed him for last week’s delivery of fresh Alfred cookies to his current safe house.

But here he was, looking around the room for possible escape routes as both Robin and Batman stirred on either side of him. Tim sat up straight at once. Where was Nightwing? Worry creased his brow.

Okay, sure, he was royally pissed at the guy, but that didn’t mean Tim stopped caring about him. It didn’t mean that he stopped checking his older brother’s location to make sure he made it back to his apartment after patrol, convinced that the one time he didn’t would be the night when Dick died. For real this time.

The thought lit a spark of anger in his chest- because he’d already been through that unimaginable reality, hadn’t he? Because the golden child, Dick Grayson, had died, and Tim had grieved. He’d sobbed, he slept in Dick’s room, he visited his apartment to steal hoodies and smell his cologne, he attended his god damn funeral-

Except none of that was real. Because Dick had been alive the entire time. Off on some top-secret spy mission that no one really knows the details of- so yeah. Tim was pissed.

But the anger filling his chest quickly died as Tim looked through the glass wall in front of him. He stilled, narrowing his eye at the situation before him.

Nightwing was chained to the floor of a big open room. He was looking around- analyzing- but his movements showed that he could not see the three sitting before him. He was a rat in a cage, and the others were the audience. Batman and Red Robin shared a look, both knowing this was not going to end well for their bird.

. .

Bruce watched as Nightwing grew slightly more relaxed at the sight of his family once the two-way glass cleared. He then saw Dick’s calculating gaze that passed over each of them. Assessing, cataloging injuries, and planning. It was always a pleasure to watch his children’s minds work, many of them surprising Batman in certain areas. Tim’s detective work, Jason’s strategizing, Cass’s observation of body language, Damian’s knowledge of weaponry, and Dick. Well, his eldest shone through leadership and kindness. An area that was not particularly hard to beat the Bat in, but one in which Dick could rival Superman.

Batman tapped the edge of the chair with one finger, using their Bat-code to tell Nightwing that backup was on the way. If they couldn’t free themselves, they just needed to hold out for a little while longer.

A figure appeared in the shadows behind Bruce. Nightwing stood straighter and narrowed his gaze on the person, even before Batman noticed they were there. “Now then! Let’s not delay! I fear we may not have all day!” Scarecrow spoke. Red Robin and Robin both tensed at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want?” Robin tried to twist to face their captor, but the bindings prevented it.

Batman suppressed a low sneer as Crow leaned into Robin’s space and pulled a pistol from the rags he considered clothes, aiming it at Damian’s head. “Crane. Put the gun down.” Batman growled, and at the same time, Nightwing yelled;

“Don’t touch him!” His voice cracked over the speakers, which allowed them to hear into the other room.

Bruce’s ears were ringing; he tried to will the reaction to the gun away. Blinking away the dark alley from the edge of his vision, causing him to miss whatever Scarecrow said in a low voice to Damian. Nightwing had moved as close to the glass as he could; Bruce tried not to imagine the bite of the metal as it dug into his son’s wrists. Not that Dick seemed to care.

Everyone looked into Nightwing’s room as two men entered through the heavy metal door. Batman saw Nightwing slide into a fighting stance, probably calculating on how to get his hands free in the process, but before he could act, Crane spoke again, “Uh uh, don’t you want the little one to return to the nest?” 

There was a flow of curses as the tip of the gun was pushed into Damian’s temple. Nightwing forced his stance to relax instantly, as if he had been expecting the demand. The men grabbed him by his upper arms and roughly dragged him to the middle of the room and shoved him into a kneeling position. Bruce’s eye twitched at the sound his son’s knees made as they collided with the concrete.

Batman resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dick returned with a quip, “If you wanted a performance, Crow, all you had to do was ask.” Nightwing’s playful attitude was often seen as childlike, but Batman saw how the vigilante used it to cause others to underestimate him and let their guard down. He was trying to create an opening for them to act.

The teasing was interrupted by one of the goons grabbing a fistful of Dick’s hair and yanking his head back. Bruce could have sworn he heard a pop in the neck. “I hope you don’t get stage fright, boy wonder!” Dick tried to reposition his head to look at Scarecrow, but a sharp inhale told Batman the grip in his hair was firm. “Resist and I pick a bat to splat!” Crow threatened. Nightwing stilled, gritting his teeth so hard they might’ve cracked.

Another goon entered the room, holding two objects that made each of the vigilantes tense. Scarecrow walked between the bats, letting the tip of the gun run over each of their heads. “Word going around, Nightwing, is that you seem to be less… influenced by my fear gas than most.” He chuckled, tapping Batman’s shoulder casually with a long, bony finger. “I suppose you might’ve built up a tolerance over the years, so you inspired me to make a little concoction designed to clip your wings specifically.”

Batman leaned forward in his chair, wishing he could will reinforcements to be there quicker. The goon flicked air out of a syringe filled with dark green liquid. He also had his right hand free; he pretended to tug frantically to mask his actions as he worked to free his left, “Crane. You don’t want to do this. Come quietly before you do something you’ll regret.” 

The said villain was over him in an instant, his sack-covered face invading his personal space. “Are you afraid, Batman?” Batman forced his expression to remain blank, “I’ve put too much work into this to back down now! That little variant is going to be the future of fear! Stronger hallucinations of your greatest fears, more adrenaline, longer-lasting effects! It’s perfect.”

The same person holding the fear toxin also picked up a small metal band. The goon that wasn't holding Dick’s hair grabbed the young man by his cheeks to keep his head still for the device to be attached. There were a couple of flashing indicators on the device, but none that Batman could read from so far away. Nightwing remained still, the gun aimed at his family being the only thing that kept him from headbutting the man in front of him. He tried to act calm, unfazed, even as the syringe was plunged into his neck. Robin cried out for him as Dick’s eyes rolled back in his head.

The hands holding Nightwing let him fall onto his back. Bruce saw the way Dick’s chest rose and fell, increasing rapidly in frequency. His cuffs were removed, but there was no reaction from Nightwing; they simply fell limp next to him. Scarecrow spoke with utter glee in his tone, “What's even more frightening is the little device there upon his head! Mad Hatter was more than happy to let me tweak one of his projectors, with the promise of causing pain to the bird that spoils all our fear fun! Now we have the pleasure of viewing what the boy wonder’s mind cooks up for a pie of fear!”

They watched as the wall of glass flickered and took on a grey tint. At first, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, and the bats allowed themselves to hope that the new fear toxin had been a dud. Then, as Dick sat up, Batman’s eyes widened at the two figures that appeared in the room, facing away from the window and towards Dick.

The oldest son of Batman had his eyes closed with a hand over his chest, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. Nightwing had given Bruce a rundown on his technique for overcoming fear toxin a long time ago, and Batman could see him attempting to enact those steps.

Bruce recognized the two figures instantly; even when they were facing away from him, there was no mistaking them. Mary and John Grayson stood, frozen in time as they wore their Flying Grayson uniforms. Bruce was silently grateful that Dick’s mind chose not to paint them as injured and bloody as they had been in their death. 

Mary looked across the room at her son, saying, “Oh, my baby boy.” Her arms began to reach out towards Nightwing.

The white’s of Nightwing’s domino mask shot wide open at the sound of his mother’s voice. His breath hitched as he sat up. He stood slowly, taking a hesitant step towards them. John spoke softly, Bruce could hear his heavy accent, unlike Dick’s slight one that had faded over time, “My son.”

Bruce knew his son was aware that his parents were not actually there, but it was unclear what fear the vision was targeting, especially since their forms were not the typical ones Dick used to experience on fear toxin. Dick was a couple of steps closer now, but he froze as his mother gasped and covered her mouth with one of her hands, the other reaching to grasp John’s arm in… fear? “Kon si kadava? [Who is this?]” Bruce scrunched his nose as he tried to translate in his head.

Although he learned Romani early on during Dick’s stay with him, their use of it had declined rapidly as Dick also gained a better understanding of English. Bruce wondered if Dick missed using his native language; after all, Romani was beautiful and was one of the few things Dick still had of his family. Bruce felt a familiar ping of guilt that he had not encouraged its use more, had not taught it to his other children.

Batman watched in horror as Dick’s parents both took a step away from their son as he neared them. The vigilante froze at the movement. “Mami? Tati? It’s me!” His voice was low, testing, only wavering slightly.

“Tu na dikhes sar amaro Dickie. [You don’t look like our Dickie.]” John’s voice cut like a knife through the air. Bruce was grateful they were speaking in another language; hopefully, Scarecrow wouldn’t pick up the use of a name in the sentence. He gritted his teeth.

“Me sem! Me sem! Si me, tyo tikno robin! [I am! I am! It is me, your little Robin!]” Dick looked to be wrestling with himself, part of him understanding that this wasn’t real, but the other part of him just wanting to see his parents to let them hold him.

“Oh na zhanav... [Oh, I don’t know…]” Mary’s body language told them that she was scared. Bruce watched as growing red spots began to cover Dick’s hands; despite the lack of injury, blood dripped from Nightwing's arms, falling onto the floor. Dick breathed fast now, looking down at his hands. Bruce could see him resisting the urge to vomit.

“Our Dickie, our Robin-” John was crying, making Dick’s head snap back up to his father.

Mary approached the boy cautiously, “Savo legato si kado? [What legacy is this?]” She motioned to the growing pool, “Na, na, nashti te aves amaro Dickie. [No, no, you cannot be our Dickie.]” Nightwing’s breath caught in his throat, and Bruce knew the kid had to be holding back sobs. He fell to his knees, staring at his trembling hands. Mary kneeled over him, leaning to whisper in his ear, but it was loud enough for them all to hear. “You are poison.”

There were several small gasps from next to Bruce, who was watching the scene intently, cataloging the information, especially as the statement made Dick violently flinch away from Mary-

Batman narrowed his eyes as Mary morphed and twisted into a new figure- one he didn’t recognize. She was obviously a hero or villain of some kind; her protective suit indicated her membership in the community.

Red Robin also looked to be trying to remember the person, both of their eyes widening as Dick scrambled to get away from her- something he never did. Every one of his moves was calculated, always 3 steps ahead due to his acrobat training. But this? Dick Grayson was afraid. Nightwing was breathing rapidly, all calming techniques seemingly lost in the fray.

This woman made his oldest child more afraid that Bruce had seen him in a long time- though it had been a long time since Dick had allowed him to see any major emotion other than anger.

There was a sound of pitter-patter that could only mean rain, though none fell around them. Nightwing was in the far left corner now, pressing himself as far away from the woman as he could get, tucking his head between his legs- the recovery position. Batman often used the position on victims who had panic attacks. Dick’s breathing did not slow, though Bruce could see him desperately trying. He tugged at his hair and grabbed his legs hard enough to leave bruises.

The woman advanced, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder- he jerked backwards at the contact, slamming his head into the wall behind him-

“Wing!” Robin yelled, if Bruce could see his eyes, he knew they would be shining with worry. He was sure his own showed nothing else.

“No.” Dick put his head back down again, as if he could will her away- he repeated the statement, desperation growing in his voice.

There was a low chuckle from the woman, it was condescending as if Dick’s reaction was simply ridiculous. “No need to be afraid, mi amor. You enjoyed it last time…” Bruce watched as she grabbed Dick’s wrists and pried his arms open, revealing the tear-stained cheeks underneath- why wasn’t he fighting back? Bruce’s jaw clenched even tighter; it wasn’t like his son to just let someone manhandle him like this-

Red Robin swallowed thickly next to him, concern and disgust written all over his face. He seemed to be able to read the situation better than Bruce could- 

But Batman wasn’t given any more time to ponder the message laid before him, because a figure dropped from the ceiling into Dick’s room, one that did not show on the glass. Someone real.

Scarecrow was shouting, calling for guards, the gun waving around frantically. Bruce made a motion with his hand, and all three of the bats leaped out of their chairs and towards the villain.

. .

Jason groaned as he crawled through the tight ventilation shaft, grimacing as various substances were smeared on his suit- Dickhead would be owing him a dry cleaning service, leather wasn’t cheap, you know?

He checked his glove to ensure he was going the right way, grateful that his helmet protected him from any lingering fear toxin in the air. Oracle had been cryptic in her hail, sending him a location and basically saying the old man and his little basket of robins had been incapacitated when trying to shut down Scarecrow's latest operation.

Timbers had already texted to complain about Nightwing going on the mission before it even began, but it did make sense. Wing had the highest tolerance to fear gas out of all of them, even higher than Bruce, so it makes sense to include him. Unlike Jason, who had the lowest tolerance, especially since his resurrection. The pit looked for any reason to make its presence known, and fear gas was just asking for a pit-induced rampage.

Nevertheless, Jason had dropped what he’d been doing (attempting to blow up another one of Black Mask's warehouses) in Crime Ally to come to his family's aid as soon as Babs called.

Jason tensed as he came to the vent above Dick’s location beacon. He heard muffled shouting and didn’t waste another second before dropping down into the room, pistol whipping around to find- no one. 

Besides Dick, who was pressed into the wall, his entire body trembling, the room was empty. Jason wasted no time in questioning it; he stalked over to his brother, speaking softly, “Wing, man, can you hear me?” He reached out to help his brother stand by his upper arms-

Dick cried out and shoved Jason, darting to the side to get away. “Don’t fucking touch me!” His voice cracked, making Jason pause. They didn’t have time for this! They needed to get out of here and find the others- but Jason saw the terror in Dick’s eyes- they were blown wide, his fight or flight mode taking over-

Red Hood mumbled something close to an apology as he launched at Nightwing. They went down in a heap of limbs and frantic movements. “NO!” Dick yelled, and Jason winced at the fear in his voice. The broader of the two managed to straddle Dick’s hips and hold his arms down.

Primal, animalistic, survival instincts seem to take over Dick; he thrashed hard enough to hit his head on the ground and almost managed to get Jason off. “Wing! Stop! It’s me, Hood,” Jason shouted, despite knowing that he couldn’t hear him or probably even see him. Not with the fear toxin clouding his judgement.

A cry of anger, fear, and desperation crawled out of Nightwing as he launched his torso forward and slammed their heads together. Red Hood gasped as the front half of his helmet shattered from the impact.

He was aware that he was thrown backwards, but the impact was muffled by the explosion of ringing in his ears. He grabbed his head, wincing at the scrapes the pieces of his helmet gave him on his head. He tried to blink away the rapidly growing black and green spots at the edges of his vision. ‘Did Dick just headbutt me hard enough to break my unbreakable helmet?’

Jason managed to flip himself onto his chest and begin to stand up, when several more bodies entered the room, Red Hood brought back out his pistol and tried to shoot the one approaching Dick with a syringe with some sort of yellow-ish liquid, but the anti-hero’s hand shook and his vision tilted. He cursed, just as the sound of shattering glass filled his ears.

. . 

Red Robin threw the batarang to shatter the glass wall between him and his brothers just as the Scarecrow goon injected Dick with another unknown substance. Batman was on the man in an instant, his fist making a satisfying crunch as it connected with the man’s jaw.

Tim appeared by Red Hood, helping him stand and then staying close in case he needed a steadying hand. The older of the two mumbled a curse under his breath, before looking at Dick a little ways away, “What the hell, N?” 

They watched as Batman approached the crumpled form of Nightwing. Robin couldn’t suppress a gasp as they watched Dick attempt to remove the metal band from his forehead, but all he managed to do was spread the blood that was trickling down his face from the gash on his forehead. Most likely from Jason’s helmet.

“Nightwing!” Bruce said sternly, causing Dick’s head to jerk up to look at the Dark Knight. His eyes were glossy and unfocused, but he relaxed ever so slightly. Bruce kneeled, his hands pulling Dick’s away from his face.

“B?” Nightwing sounded tired, so so tired. “Is it over?” His hands went limp, and Bruce had to reach out to keep him from falling over. Tim winced, judging the way Dick was rapidly losing consciousness after being injected once more, he doubted this was anywhere near over.

Batman reached to try to remove the device as he spoke, but ended up simply cupping Dick’s cheek instead. “No. It’s not.” His voice softened, “Stay awake.” 

Nightwing leaned into Bruce’s touch without having to think about it; his face showed he was concentrating on staying awake but failing miserably. “Please, don’t go.” The acrobat whispered, his words slurring together. Batman cursed under his breath, reaching into his belt for an antidote-

“Batman, stop!” Tim stepped forward, “If this is a new strain, we have no way of knowing what kind of effect our current antidote will have on Wing.”

Red Hood had one hand pressed against a wall, his smashed helmet on the ground next to him. “But it’s all based on the same shit, shouldn’t it help a little bit at least?”

Batman answered for Red, “There’s no way of knowing.” He mentally debated the options, but before he had the chance to make a decision, Nightwing shot up with a sharp inhale.

The whites of his mask were wide, and his hands shook violently. He grabbed Bruce’s wrist, holding tight enough to leave a bruise. Everyone tensed as he looked at Batman, “I can’t-” the acrobat held back a sob. “B, I can’t- please-”

“Can’t what?” Batman tried to soften his voice as much as possible, but Nightwing’s breathing picked up all the same. “Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real-”

“You promised-” Dick’s other hand grabbed Bruce’s, making Batman drop the antidote. “Please, I can’t do that again-” he shook his head, but stopped as the motion only seemed to make him more dizzy.

Red Robin moved forward and picked up the vile. He looked at Batman for confirmation. “No!” Dick’s nails dug into Bruce’s wrists, “You promised!” The tears and sobs flowed freely now, “You said you wouldn’t leave me again-” Nightwing’s voice lowered, but he maintained eye contact with Batman. “You can’t- I can’t do it, B, I can’t be Batman- not again- I failed- please, don’t go-” His voice cracked.

Red Robin saw the slight tremor in Bruce’s hands, who wouldn’t look up at him. Tim gripped the antidote harder in his hands. Red Hood stalked over to him and snatched the liquid, “Hood! Wait!”

Robin stood by Batman’s side, his fist clenched tight at his side. “It’s all we have, kid. If it doesn’t help, then at least we tried.” He looked at Nightwing, sobbing and continuing to beg for Bruce to stay. He plunged the device into Nightwing’s shoulder.

The vigilante didn’t react, but his entire body lost its tension as his eyes rolled back in his head. They all held their breath, but there was no immediate reaction. Bruce lay him down gently, taking deep breaths to ground himself-

He tried to shake what he’d just seen from his mind. One of his son’s greatest fears was to don the mantle of Batman once more? The death of Bruce in Dick’s mind was to be expected, as one could not happen without the other.

Batman’s fingers twitched as he fiddled with the device attached to Nightwing’s forehead. Didn’t Dick know that no one was supposed to take his place as Batman? That it was his burden alone? Bruce knew that his son had been faced with the impossible after his ‘death’, and they had talked about what Dick had done wrong, but had they talked about all the things he did right?

“I wouldn’t do that, Batman.” Batman’s hands froze. Scarecrow giggled from where he was tied up in the other room. “I fear Nightwing may not survive that.”

Robin was across the room and held a knife to the villain's throat in half a heartbeat. Batman lowered his hands, choosing to gather his trembling son in his arms instead, and stood. Had Dick lost weight? He felt lighter in his arms, thinner.

“Explain.” Robin demanded.

Scarecrow seemed delighted to do just that. “Ah, little one, you see that device is not only used to project the boy’s hallucinations for us to view, but is also analyzing the way the boy navigates his fears to create the most terrifying scenario possible for our Nightwing.” The group stared at him in shock. Batman looked down at Nightwing, who was completely limp in his arms, besides the tightness between his brows. “If the process is interrupted, there is a failsafe that will send a little shock through the young lad’s brain.” Robin tightened his grip on his knife, wanting nothing more than to feel Crane’s warm blood on his blade-

A voice in his head- that sounded an awful lot like Richard- made him lower the blade. He threw the man to the ground. “How do we disable it?” The young assassin demanded, Scarecrow laughed, as if the thought was hilarious.

In a blink, the madman was serious again, staring straight into Batman’s cowl, “Fear will triumph! Fear will claim your first Robin! No one can escape-” As he ranted, Red Hood stalked over to him and knocked him out with the butt of his gun.

Batman made a noise, but Hood just shrugged, “He wasn’t giving us anything useful.”

. .

The group moved quickly as they exited the building, Batman calling the Batmobile to their location. Tim and Damian helped slide Dick into the back seat, his head resting on Damian’s lap, who ran his fingers through the older’s hair. Just like Richard does for him.

Jason hopped into the front passenger seat, already on the phone with Agent A and Oracle. Batman slammed on the gas. Tim, who was kneeling on the floor in the back, used his hologlove to scan the device attached to Dick. “Crane was telling the truth. This thing is set to explode unless the algytham finishes, but if it does that-”

“The lad will most likely have a heart attack.” Alfred finished from the car speakers. “His readouts from the suit are quite concerning.”

“Yeah.” Tim’s mouth was dry; he swallowed, using his hands to keep Dick from rolling onto him as Bruce sped through a turn. “And the fears are only going to get worse, as it adapts to his way of thinking.”

There was a curse from up front, “Shouldn’t the antidote be working by now?” Hood gripped the car door; everyone knew it wasn’t for Bruce’s driving.

“Richard!” Before Tim had a chance to answer, Damian was shouting as Dick’s entire body tensed and jerked-

“He’s seizing!” Tim shouted, helping Damian turn their brother into the recovery position. The one minute and 47 seconds felt like an eternity as they watched Dick’s body jerk and shake.

Vomit fell onto Damian’s lap and the seat below Dick’s head. Tim had to use his fingers to make sure the airway was clear, resisting the urge to gag. Vomit never bothered Tim, but the anxiety in his stomach only grew with the fact that it was his brother’s vomit. 

A brother he’d hardly spoken to- or even been in the same room with- over the last few months. A brother who had already died once, and Tim didn’t know if he would survive a second.

They were nearly to the cave when another seizure began, “Fuck!” Jason yelled from the front, keeping track of the time.

They pulled Dick onto a stretcher after the second seizure ended, 2 minutes and 13 seconds.

They rolled him into the medbay, only stopping to turn him as more vomit was expelled. An IV was attached to his hand, blood drawn, and the contents began to be analyzed. Tim stood awkwardly to the side, knowing he should be helping- he was the best in medical besides Bruce and Alfred- but his feet felt like they had grown roots and kept him planted just outside the door- watching- Dick’s readouts spiking-

Tim didn’t even notice that Damian stood next to him, eyes darting from Richard to his vitals to Father and back again- fingers twitching at his side- “Richard just came back.” Tim’s head snapped to his little brother as he spoke, sounding so small and more fragile than Tim had thought possible. “I just got him back-”

Jason was walking towards them, Damian’s face hardened, and his mouth snapped shut. The new presence was enough to remind him that he was reacting- feeling. Tim knew that if Dick was there, he would say something, anything to let Damian know it was okay, that he was allowed to feel scared or angry or whatever.

But Dick wasn’t standing next to the baby bat. He was in the medbay. Having a seizure cluster. Tim was standing there. But he didn’t know what to say. 

Jason had his helmet and mask removed, and he stopped before both of them. “Showers. Then food.” His hands were on his hips. Doing his best to portray his usual unfazed demeanor. He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous-” Damian began, but it lacked his usual bite.

“There is nothing you can do right now. Go. You smell awful.” Jason lightly pushed Robin towards the showers. Who, surprisingly, went with a slight huff. Probably wishing to get the vomit off his uniform.

Tim, however, didn’t move. He remained planted, not even looking at Jason. He stared at the clear wall that separated them from the medbay. Alfred was buzzing around while Bruce was holding his son on his side. Jason sighed and knelt to grip Tim’s upper arms. “Kid. You can help in a bit, but-”

“I told him not to die.” Tim finally looked at Jason, tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. “That’s the last thing I said to him.”

Jason tensed, gripping Tim more firmly, “It won’t be. He’s going to beat this. Fuck, if anyone can, it’s him.”

‘You don’t know that.’ Tim thought bitterly. Eyes darting to the cave entrance as Cassandra ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Jason seemed to read his mind, “I know because it’s Dick. He will come back to us. He has to.” Tim pretended not to hear the desperation seeping into Jason’s voice.

Cass slowed as she neared them, of course, being able to read the intense emotions in the room just by looking at them. Jason stood and crossed his arms. Tim turned to their sister. She looked at them expectantly. “Timmy. Go.” 

Tim shot him a look, but turned to change and shower as well. Once he was out of earshot, Jason sighed and let his shoulders drop. “It’s a shit show.” He ran his hands down his face. As if he could wipe away the reality facing them.

Cass said nothing, glancing at the medbay and then back at Jason. He walked back to the glass wall, Cass following to stand beside him. “Crow injected Dick with some kind of fear toxin.”

“Antidote?” Cass inquired; she was staring at Dick’s still form. He had an oxygen mask on his face, the cup fogging up with each shaky breath.

“We think that’s what caused the seizures.” Cass wiped her head to look at him. A fear toxin that didn’t respond to their antidote could mean a lot of trouble for Gotham and her bats. She saw the way his shoulders hung and the look of exhaustion and worry behind his eyes. “Alfred called it a seizure cluster. He had three, one right after another.” Jason gritted his teeth.

Cassandra grabbed her brother’s clenched fist and forced it open, placing his flat hand on her chest. “Breathe.” 

Jason did as she said, the day's events hitting him like a truck. “Dick- he-” He took another deep breath with Cass’s prompting. “We’ve all had the gas, but I can’t even remember it ever bothering him that much- if at all. But this stuff- god, Cass, he begged. Pleaded with Bruce to stay- to not have to be Batman again. But that wasn’t even the worst of it-”

Cass let the hand fall, but kept it in her own, giving it a light squeeze. Jason looked over at Dick, “He was terrified of me- or whoever he thought I was- I’ve never known Nightwing to be scared of anyone. He’s always been so- so-”

“Fearless?” Cass interjected, and Jason nodded, still looking through the grass.

“It felt so wrong to see him like that. He headbutted me so hard it broke my helmet.” Cass’s eyes went wide. “He was that desperate to get away.” Jason felt a shudder go down his back. He let out a tired sigh, “And I didn’t even see the beginning.”

Cass looked around Jason a bit to see the two figures coming up to the medbay. She let Jason’s hand go, telling him softly, “Shower. Eat.” The edges of Jason’s mouth twitched; he turned and headed towards the changing rooms, hoping Alfred had a spare set of clothes for him (he did, he always would).

Cass, Tim, and Damian entered the medbay and stood on the opposite side of the bed from where Bruce sat. Alfred checked vitals again before moving upstairs to prepare a meal for them. Bruce met the gaze of his children. “We think the seizures were a reaction to the toxin and the antidote combined. This toxin is designed to combat any antidotes using it to strengthen its potency.”

“His brain couldn’t handle the added stress.” Tim concluded, moving around the bed to look at Alfred’s notes. Bruce nodded, despite the statement not being a question.

“The device is, as Crane said, a communication system to project the victim's fears, but it is also using their own brain against them to create the most terrifying scenario possible.” Cass took her unconscious brother’s hand. It was sweaty and dry. She rubbed soft circles on the back, just like he had done for her so many times.

Dick’s form was tense, finding no rest in his sleep from the toxin. Tim used a cloth to wipe the sweat from his brother’s forehead. Damian made a noise and crossed his arms. He was worried, Cass saw the tight pinch of his brow, the way his back stood straighter, eyes searching for a way for him to help- to be useful.

But there was also irritation, and… anger. His neck was tense, and his fingers twitched, as if subconsciously searching for a neck to strangle. Cass tilted her head at her baby brother. If anyone else noticed the suppressed emotions, they might equate them to the whole situation. To the fact that the young assassin’s big brother (pseudo-guardian) was facing his greatest fears, and they could do nothing about it. However, the minute twitches of Damian’s gaze betrayed where those feelings were directed. The other people in the room.

Cass joined Bruce on the bench, keeping an eye on Damian, who now stood closer to Dick’s head. Taking Tim’s place, who left to grab something. Everyone’s heads turned as Tim and Jason entered the medbay, followed closely by Alfred.

The butler pushed a cart lined with food, knowing his charges would not leave Master’s Dick side to eat upstairs. The group was silent as plates were passed around, the only sounds being the slightly elevated rate of Dick’s heart and the creaking of the bed as his limbs spasmed.

Drake moved with purpose, placing a small stuffed elephant on the bed next to Grayson. His hands shaking slightly, he grabbed a plate to keep his hands busy. No one said anything. Not even Todd.

Damian dropped his plate on the cart loudly, making heads snap to him. Except for Cain, who had already been watching him. “Damian?” Bruce put down his own plate, halfway standing to move towards his youngest.

The child in question scoffed, crossing his arms, his exasperated gaze lingering on each of them. “Why do you all coddle Richard now?” He motioned towards the general direction of Grayson on the bed, eyes darting from the stuffed elephant to Tim.

“Fear gas tends to get B’s attention, squirt.” Todd waved his fork dismissively, as if he, too, had not been worried and attached to his big brother’s side. He’d deny it if anyone dared mention it to Grayson later on.

Damian’s fists clenched at his sides, eyes barreling into his father. “Has he not needed attention since his return?”

Drake’s back straightened, apparently seeing where this was going. “That’s got nothing-”

“Doesn’t it?” Damian pointed a finger at him. “Richard’s well-being has so clearly been deteriorating since his dismissal at your hands! I am not naive enough to simply miss the distance that had been shoved upon him, from deployable jabs-” He glared at Drake and Todd- “to outright disregarding him!” He rounded on Father.

Batman’s jaw was set; there was a slight twitch in his eye. A motion that occurred whenever there was a perceived threat to his family. Even if that threat came from within. “Damian, I do not know what Dick has told you-”

Damian would have stomped his foot if he had been a normal child. But instead, he grabbed the edge of the gurney, shouting, “Nothing! Richard has told me nothing, Father!” He lowered his voice, rubbing a hand through his hair. “He will not tell me anything. I’m his partner- his-” Robin. He didn’t need to say it, for everyone to know what was going to be said.

Damian took a deep breath, “He, too, is pulling away. And you all are letting him.” Without looking up, Damian stalked out of the medbay. Leaving a deafening silence and heaviness to the air.

Chapter Text

Dick was falling- wind rushing past his ears and cutting out all other sound- he felt the air slice into any exposed skin- not painful but too eerily familiar- his hair wiping his face- the loud, wet crack of bodies hitting the ground-

He looked up at the starry Gotham sky (or was it Bludhaven?). It didn’t matter. He was always falling.

He wondered how close the ground was. When would he meet his end? The same end he was always destined for- it should have been him-

He wondered if his parents would have preferred to see the ground or the sky in their last moments. On one hand, seeing the ground gave one time to prepare for the end- though they could do nothing about it. On the other hand, looking at the sky allowed him to pretend- for just a few more moments- that he was flying-

He resisted the urge to close his eyes, desperate to memorize the stars he had neglected before. His eyebrows pinched together. Why had he never paid them much attention before? He should take Damian to the Gotham observatory-

The wind got louder, he fell faster- the ground was coming- he knew it- knew he wouldn’t be taking Damian to the-

Dick jerked violently, his arms failing as if to slow his descent. He knocked something over next to him- but he didn’t hear the crash next to him- he gulped air in- he felt hands pressing into his chest- he thrashed against the hold-

He was vaguely aware of at least two other figures in the room- but his vision was too blurry to even attempt to recognize them. His ears were ringing, his body shaking-

“-Dickie-”

“-here. You’re-”

Dick blinked rapidly, feeling his heartbeat slow slightly as he was able to take in more air. He plopped back onto the bed, eyes fluttering closed, and his limbs giving up on holding him up as the adrenaline wore off. Someone lifted the back of the bed so Dick was sitting up better.

“-you with us, chum?”

The acrobat winced, the voice piercing his skull like a knife, as his hearing returned and the ringing dulled. He attempted to open his eyes again but found that the light hurt just as much as the talking. He took in a shaky breath. His hands found the side of the bed and squeezed, to keep himself awake and present.

“Dick?” He gripped harder and groaned, grateful when someone dimmed the lights.

“Shut it, old man.” Someone else whispered.

The decrease in volume allowed Dick to crack open his eyes. “Jay?” He crooked, his vision coming into focus slowly.

Jason hummed in acknowledgement and lifted a glass of water to Dick’s lips. He took a few sips. Blinking the last hints of darkness out of his vision.

When he finally was able to focus his gaze on Jason fully- Dick froze- forgetting he was drinking, he started to choke on the water-

He gasped and sputtered, his hands shaking as he tried to scoot as far away from Jason as possible, but his limbs still felt like lead. “Little Wing?” Dick hated how desperate he sounded.

Jason looked at him, confused- the emotion looking strange on a half-burnt face- “Yeah, D. I’m here.”

Dick shook his head, the motion making him nauseous. Jason grabbed his hand, making Dick gasp. The hand was… cold- deadly cold- but-

Jason’s hands were always warm- Dick used them as hand warmers on plenty of cold Gotham nights. Dick trembled in his brother's grasp, eyes wide and darting up and down his form.

“What are you seeing?” Bruce spoke in a low voice, catching on to Dick’s reaction towards his brother.

Dick shook his head, not wanting to answer Bruce, and also in an attempt to clear the image in front of him. Jason looked small. Smaller than he had been in a long time. He wore a suit that currently sat in a glass case across the Batcave. Though you wouldn’t be able to tell they were the same, because the one Jason was wearing was covered in blood. His blood.

It dripped on the floor, coating his brother, making the air smell metallic and smoky. Dick swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s not real.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince them or himself. He couldn’t look away, the exposed bones where fire melted flesh- the unhealthy twist of a leg- the dent in his skull-

“The effects should have worn off hours ago-” Bruce moved to the blood samples he’d taken earlier, turning his back to Dick. “-maybe if you’d been better-”

Dick’s head snapped to his father, so hard that there was a pop in his neck. Bruce still had his back to him, but Jason tensed beside him. “What?” Dick asked in a whisper. Eyes drilling into his father’s broad back. 

Bruce turned around slowly, “Don’t act like you don’t know. You let them inject you. Seems like a recurring theme with you.”

Dick’s mouth fell open, and suddenly he was on his feet, the bed between him and Batman. His whole body was shaking- sure, getting injected could have been his fault (just add it to the list of his failures)- but Bruce sounded like he was referring too- 

He could feel the tightness of his suit- everything was wet- felt the numbness that consumed him until there was nothing left- “Why would- I didn’t- it was that or let Scarecrow shoot Damian-” His breath was coming in fast and uneven. Desperate to prove himself, to validate his actions.

Someone grabbed his arm- Dick jerked his elbow into their ribs, making the person gasp at the contact. He slipped by Jason, making a break for the medbay doors. He couldn’t breathe- he needed to get away-

He shoved the doors open, spinning in a circle. He ran his hands through his hair, mumbling under his breath as he moved out into the open room. He felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. What was happening? Dick felt the familiar confusion that came with the blur of reality-

No. That wasn’t happening. It was just some weird fear toxin not-

He froze, looking back at the glass wall that led to the medbay. Then shook his head, turning away from it, aware of Jason and Bruce tracking his every move from the medbay door-

Jason looked like himself again, the white skunk mark loosening the knot in Dick’s stomach slightly. Dick looked down at himself. He was still wearing the bottom half of his suit and the undershirt he normally wore. Scars, new scars, littered his arms and shoulders. Scars his family had yet to see since his return. He didn’t even want to think about the ones on his back. Poking out from under the tank top. 

He turned and headed to the lockers that kept spare clothes for them. He grabbed a hoodie, ignoring the tremble in his hands as he put it on.

“Dickhead seems fine. Just seeking attention yet again.” Jason was closer now, a few feet behind Dick. The older tensed at his words, taking in a shaky breath.

“I-I don’t think it’s warm off yet. I think I’m hearing things, and d-definitely seeing things.” Dick risked turning around and immediately took a step back in horror, pressing his back into the lockers.

He was no longer standing in the cave; instead, he was in a dimly lit metal room. The air smelled of gunpowder and death- he looked down to see a mix of wires and technology sinking into his chest- there was a dull beep in the background. The noise picked up in pace, just as Dick felt his heart do the same.

He gasped, the beeping getting faster- he sputtered on an inhale, the feeling of his throat closing- his heart stopping- the noise stopped- he couldn’t breathe- he slammed his head into the metal behind him-

His chest was begging for air- only able to take in quick, raspy gasps. 

He tried- tried to remember it wasn’t real. He wasn’t dead. There were no pills. But the logical thoughts did nothing to stem the panic throughout his body.

“Dick breathe!” Some yelled at him, hands gripping his shoulders and shaking slightly.

“You need to go-” Dick grabbed the wrists attached to the hands shaking him, gasping to get the words out, “You- still have time-”

Bruce cupped his face, “You’re not there. There’s no bomb. There’s no pill- Dick!” Dick felt his legs buckle, his entire body roaring for air- for life-

He shut his eyes. Gritting his teeth as he willed his mind to get it together. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in large breaths. The familiar grey of the cave ceiling and Bruce’s salt and pepper hair hovering over him- when had he ended up on the floor? When did Bruce get so much grey in his hair?

It was… nice. It reminded Dick that his father was growing older, which wasn’t always a guarantee in their life, and that he was alive. Not dead. Not lost in time. Alive. Hovering over him, talking to others in the cave in a calm but demanding tone.

Someone placed an oxygen mask over his face. Dick tried to turn away, but the mask followed him. He took it, taking a few deep breaths. His vision gaining focus slowly.

“-pill, Bruce-” 

“-not important, Jason.”

“The fuck it’s-“

“Both of you- I got-”

“Arg-” Dick groaned as a spark jolted through his head, his eyes flew open, and he shot up to a sitting position. He went to rub his temples, where the spark originated, but soft, firm hands grabbed his own.

Dick looked over his younger sister’s face, her soft brown eyes catching his own. She modeled some deep breaths for Dick to follow. He reached up and pushed a lock of hair from her face. She smiled, and Dick let his shoulders drop slightly.

“Cass?” He whispered, his voice sounding like he smoked three packs a day. He winced and tried to clear his throat. He could still taste the bitterness of the pill-

No. It wasn’t real. It was just the toxin. It was just the-

Dick twisted away suddenly, aiming as far away from Cassandra as he could before puking his stomach contents onto the Batcave floor. “Jesus.” He heard from behind him. There wasn’t much in his stomach, so soon he was just dry heaving, hand gripping the material over his abdomen. Cass rubbed a circle on his back, Dick tried to smile a ‘thank you’ in her direction, but just ended up heaving more.

Once his body was convinced no heart-stopping pills were being shoved down his throat, Dick sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his shaky hand. Cass was looking past him, at Bruce and Jason. Who were arguing loudly, well, Jason was yelling, and Bruce… wasn’t engaging.

“You said Dick’s death was staged!” Jason wailed, pointing an accusing finger at Bruce’s face.

Bruce looked towards Dick, an unreadable look on his face. Dick felt his chest tighten. He was normally the one to mitigate between the two. “Jay-”

Jason didn’t turn to look at him, but did step in front of Bruce to block the two from looking at each other. “Nuh uh, Dickhead. He’s going to fucking answer.” Dick tensed, trying to stand to go physically separate the two, but Cass grabbed his wrist, her eyebrows pinched in confusion.

There was a terrifying moment of silence where no one moved. At last, Bruce seemed to crumble. He turned to the Batcomputer, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Dick’s blood ran cold. “What are you-” He began, but the words died in his throat. He glanced between his family members before landing on the screen along with everyone else.

On the Batcomputer was the cave footage of the night Dick had been… persuaded to join the Spyral mission. Dick watched as his father tossed him across a table, landing on top and landing a hit in the exact same spot as Jason did the night Dick revealed himself to his brothers. He winced at the memories.

Again, there was a beat of silence as everyone processed the brutal video and had to reconceptualize their views of the last year and a half. Then everything exploded again-

He watched as Jason shoved Bruce back into the desk- Dick’s heart almost leaped out of his chest. “Stop-”

“Was it worth it, Bruce? Losing yet another kid for the mission?” Jason reeled on his father, raising a fist. Bruce made no move to dodge it.

“Stop,” Dick said, barely above a whisper, his body going tense with panic. He scrambled to his feet on shaky legs- he just wanted it all to stop-

There was a strangled whimper from behind him. Dick turned to see Tim frozen a little way away from the computer. Dick’s heart fell through the floor- Cass grabbed his arms to keep him standing-

“You didn’t want to go.” Tim was staring at him, one hand hovering over his mouth in shock. “He made you.” There were tears in his eyes. Dick took a step towards him- mouth open to comfort his little brother-

“Richard?” 

He froze. Turning slowly to recognize Damian, half his body hidden behind Tim. As if he were attempting to shield himself from the nightmare that Dick was sure he was in. He was shaking- ‘No. This isn’t happening- this can’t be happening-’ Dick pleaded with no one to listen.

Damian’s gaze shifted to Bruce and Jason, who were also looking at them, frozen. The gaze hardened in a way that Dick knew all too well. Suddenly, Damian was halfway to the group of vigilantes, knife in hand-

But Dick was there in a moment. Months of training with his Robin allowed him to take the knife seamlessly and kneel in front of the kid to block his path, despite the wild thrashing protests- “Dami-”

“YOU-” Damian pummeled Dick’s chest and shoulder with his fists, murderous gaze fixed on his father. “You took him away from us! You let us grieve and mourn for him!” Wet, hot, angry tears fell down Damian’s face.

“Stop- please stop-” Dick said, burying his face in his baby brother’s shoulder. “I don’t-”

“Don’t what, Dickie?” Dick blinked. Jason was there, kneeling in front of Dick and Damian. Dick met his gaze, but couldn’t get the words past his lips. “Can’t face your own failures?”

The acrobat was unable to suppress the flinch. Jason was right. He’d failed them. He hadn’t been here when they needed him— hadn’t been here for Damian’s return. They grieved him when he was still alive. He failed to stand up to Bruce on their behalf. He was still following his orders, no matter how much it hurt his relationship with them.

Damian pulled away, his eyes red and puffy. Dick let him go. The young assassin looked up at him, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hate him. He is not my father.”

Dick grabbed his shoulders, “No, no, baby-”

“He made you-”

“But I still went!” He shouted, forcing everyone in the room to give him their attention. Dick squeezed Damian’s shoulders, glancing at Jason and Tim and then Cass, his voice becoming wet with emotion. “I went. A-and I did awful things. I-” Dick saw the endless bodies, saw Agent Zero’s blood on his hands-

“I let him send me away.” He took a deep breath to ground himself. “Even if it was awful, and even if it broke me in more ways than I can count-” there was a strangled noise from Tim, “-I let him make me go. I let him take me away from you all- from my family. And that’s on me.”

All four of his siblings spoke at once. Dick failed to latch onto more than a few words from each of them. Damian’s hands curled into fists, tangled in Dick’s hoodie. As he loudly protested Dick’s words.

But Dick didn’t want to hear it. He scooped Damian up, ignoring the squawk from his little brother. He scratched the back of Damian’s head as he lay his head on Dick’s shoulder, hands still clenched in his hoodie. He took note of Jason’s tense form as he looked from the screen to Bruce and then back to the screen. Dick grabbed Jason’s wrist, tugging him away from the impending fight. “Jaybird. Please.”

Jason hesitated, giving Bruce a hard look that clearly said, ‘You are not off the hook.’ But he huffed, grabbing Tim by the back of his shirt and dragging him with them. Tim barely managed to grab Cass as she stared at Bruce, eyes wide. 

Bruce stayed still, leaning awkwardly against the desk as he watched them go to the medbay. His hands were clenching the desk behind him. There was a glint of something in his eyes, but Dick turned away before he could decipher it. Hurt? Worry? Anger?

Dick squeezed Damian closer to his chest, though he wasn’t sure if it was for Damian’s comfort or his own. 

In the medbay, Tim prepared to take another sample of blood. Dick sat on the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, head in his hands. Jason stood, looking from Dick to Tim, unusually uncertain. Tim placed his laptop on a tray, passing off the blood collection to Cass as he typed away on the device. Dick looked away, a wave of vertigo hitting him. 

“Arm?” Cass whispered, standing next to him, and Dick saw the redness of her lips where she’d been biting them, like she often did when stressed out. 

Dick held out his arm and covered Cass’s hand with his free one. “We’re gonna figure this out, Cass. I’m okay.”

There was a snort from Jason, “Yeah, right. You’re fine, and I was fine after being blown up by the Joker.” Dick fought against the urge to glance at his brother. He closed his eyes for a moment but opened them quickly as he felt himself drifting.

“There! I’m in!” Tim pumped the air with a fist, and Jason leaned over his shoulder, allowing them to look at Tim’s success together.

“Great. A front row seat to Dick’s descent into madness.” Dick sighed, but as the laptop repeated the sentence, everyone tensed. Damian and Cass’s heads snapped to the device, then back to Dick.

Jason groaned and threw his hands in the air. Dick bit the inside of his cheek, somehow feeling like the miscommunication was his brain’s fault. “Do we know how much longer this,” he gestured to his head, “is gonna last, Timmy?”

Tim took the vile of blood from Cass and put it in a machine and sighed; even with his back turned, Dick could see the lines of tension around Tim’s shoulders. “How the fuck should I know? Can’t you figure it out yourself?”

Dick suppressed a flinch at the words, but still sucked in a sharp breath. Tim whipped around as the laptop repeated the distorted words. Dick brought his legs to his chest, speaking in a low voice. “M-maybe just write it down.”

Tim’s face twisted in a mix of guilt and frustration. He grabbed a pad, writing quickly and then handing it to Dick. 

‘Not sure. Device can’t be removed without killing you. Analyzing blood.’

Dicks pinched the bridge of his nose. Jason scoffed, reaching for the pad to write his own message.

‘After this, we all need to talk.’

Dick swallowed, refusing to look at Jason and instead resting his forehead on his knees. Damian grabbed the pad and wrote in a rush.

‘Not. Your. Fault.’

Dick forced a smile and ruffled the kid's hair. He reached up to rub his temples, which were pulsing softly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice the dull ache. He stopped when he felt the metal device again. His fingers twitched, wanting to just rip the thing off. Consequences be damn. 

Cass tapped Dick’s hand, making him look up at her. ‘Sleep.’ She signed, it wasn’t a question, but Dick shook his head anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be having much luck with that tonight.” Dick gave a short laugh, but it didn’t light up his face like it normally did. Cass frowned.

Dick looked over at the laptop, then at Tim, who was staring at him. Dick hopped off the bed and placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “What do you have so far, Timmy?”

Tim stood a little straighter with a problem to solve, something Dick knew always eased his worry, even if just for a little bit. “Okay, so-”

‘But you didn’t die. Did you? You just lied.’

Dick winced at the sharp words that punched through his head. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus back on Tim’s voice- well, the real Tim’s voice.

“-weird shit because it’s specifically designed to work against the antidote. So, when we gave it to you, your body absorbed it and converted it into more toxins, which is what caused the seizures. But now it seems like the toxin is dormant in your bloodstream.”

Tim started talking faster the more into the explanation he got. He moved to Dick’s past blood samples, picking them up as if the answer was written on them. “Crane said that the device is using your own mind and fear visions against you to make the most terrifying outcome possible. I think it’s calculating right now and when it’s done…”

Tim turned back to the group, his throat suddenly dry. “It’ll activate the fear toxin still in your bloodstream. T-there’s no telling how bad it’ll be. It could make you go into a coma- it could last for hours- it could kill you-”

Dick felt his brother spiraling and pulled him into a tight hug. “Shh, Timmy, it’s gonna be okay. I’m going to be fine.” He planted a kiss on top of Tim’s greasy hair.

“I guess I’ll take the first babysitting shift.” Jason started pushing Tim and Cass towards the door, despite their protests. “Can it, Timbers. There is nothing you can do tonight.” His voice softened towards the end. Cass dragged Tim the rest of the way across the cave and up the stairs.

Damian grabbed Dick’s wrist, a silent message of his intentions. Dick smiled but removed his brother's hand slowly. No matter how comforting the presence of his baby brother would be. Dick didn’t know what state he would be in, and Dick wasn’t fond of the idea of Damian getting caught up in whatever this toxin had in store for him.

Dick rubbed the knuckles of Damian’s hand with his thumb. “You need to get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Damian did not look convinced, but Jason leaned down and whispered something that made their baby brother scowl and then huff up the stairs.

After Damian left, the two sat in silence for a bit. Dick started picking at the lint on the stretcher, desperate for something to do with his hands, before moving to picking at the loose skin around his nails.

“You look like shit.” Dick looked up at his brother when he spoke, chuckling once he realized that the toxin hadn’t twisted Jason’s words.

Dick shrugged. “Been a long night.” His body was screaming at him for the sweet release of sleep, but he could only imagine what terrors awaited him in the dreaming world right now. He decided he would rather deal with the exhaustion.

Jason sighed heavily. “Not just tonight. Ya look like you got run over with a bus and walked in the desert for a couple of days.” Dick almost laughed at how spot on his brother was. Almost.

Dick reached up to run a hand over the side of his head; it was smooth, there was no device. He tried to conceal the tremble in his hands. Jason noticed anyway, but kept his mouth shut. The older of the two realized he hadn’t answered, “Been a long couple of months. Well, years. I guess you could say.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and studied his brother for a moment. Dick felt the need to curl further into a ball to protect himself from Jason's keen eye. The acrobat felt the first few tears slip, causing Jason’s eye to widen, and then Dick was sobbing. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them in closer and resting his head back on his knees.

“I’m so sorry-” Dick’s voice cracked, “You all weren’t supposed to find out like that- or at all. I just wanted-” He took in a shaky breath, “I just wanted things to go back to normal.”

Jason moved to sit beside him on the bed. “Dick, you have got to stop covering his ass for him-”

Dick’s head snapped up, “And what? Be the reason you all hate him? He’s your dad-”

“He’s your dad, too!” Jason shouted, standing again so that he could step in front of Dick and shake his shoulders.

Dick’s eyes were wide, the fight suddenly leaving his body. He studied Jason’s face for a long moment. He wanted to shout and scream, but he was so tired. Tired of carrying the weight of everything on his shoulders. Tired of being pushed away by Bruce. Tired of being ignored and forgotten by everyone else. Tired of… everything.

Dick shook his head, releasing his legs to grab Jason’s forearms. “You don’t understand. Jay, you can’t understand.” A shaky hand cupped Jason’s cheek. To be honest, Dick didn’t want Jason to understand. Somehow, his younger brother had managed to set and maintain boundaries with their father… and Bruce had simply been happy Jay was in their lives. Dick didn’t have that luxury.

Jason squeezed his shoulders, a strange softness in his voice, “Then make me understand, Circus Boy.”

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his vision going hazy as the world seemed to shift- he blinked at Jason’s-

At Tiger’s form. Agent One. Dick jumped back, but not far enough to escape the hold on his shoulders. When had he stood up? 

“Jay.” Dick gasped the name, holding the arms more firmly. Blinking rapidly to clear his thoughts.

“Try again, Idiot,” Tiger smirked. He took a step back, lowering his hands. Dick scanned him over, his mouth open in surprise. Tiger put his hands on his hips and spun in a slow circle. “Gotta say, this cave is far less impressive than I thought it would be.”

“You’re not really here,” Dick spoke calmly, his tone cautious. He glanced around the medbay, which seemed strangely bare. There was no equipment, no bed, just loose supplies, almost forgotten in the space.

The smirk grew, Tiger stalked back across the room to him, and Dick froze at the closeness. “Or are you not really here?” He reached up and cupped Dick’s cheek, making him gasp at the contact.

He shook his head, but couldn’t help but lean into the familiar touch. Just slightly. “No- I’m not- I can’t be back there- I got out-”

“You abandoned the mission.” Dick whipped around. They were standing in the open cave now. The Batcomputer and stairs up to the manor behind the man who spoke. Dick set his jaw, keeping his stance neutral. Batman’s voice was low as he spoke, cruel disappointment dripping from his lips. “You failed. Though I suppose I expected too much of you.” Dick’s breathing picked up even more. He rubbed the spot again. It was smooth. The device was gone-

His mouth was dry as he spoke, “You stopped answering, B. What was I supposed to do? I thought- I thought you left me to-” to die. Dick stopped himself from finishing the sentence with visible effort and tried to press down the sob that threatened to spill over.

“To die?” Tiger smiled, finishing the thought for Dick. He moved slowly around the pair, almost blending into the shadows. “I told you. There’s no one waiting for you on the other side.” Bruce stood still, seemingly unaware of the third presence in the room.

Dick gritted his teeth. How many times had Dick leaned on the idea- the memory- of his family while working for Spyral? There were many days when returning to them had been the only thing keeping him going. Keeping him sane. And then-

‘But you didn’t die. Did you? You just lied.’ 

And then he had returned. He made it out. Through blood, sweat, and tears. He clawed his way out of hell. Only to be greeted with words that haunted his dreams and a punch that felt too much like being sent away.

Something in the back of Dick’s mind screamed that Tim would never say those words to him -would never shut him out after coming back- that Jason would be happy that he was alive-

“Agent 37.” Dick looked up, responding to the title automatically- the cave and Batman were gone. He was standing in an empty grey room. There were no windows and only one metal door. 

“No.” Dick looked around, feeling dizzy at the slight movement. “No!” He screamed, his voice breaking as he grew louder.

A sharp jolt of pain shot through Dick’s skull, and he sucked in pained gasps through gritted teeth-

There was something… something he was supposed to remember- something he needed to do- he looked down at his hands- 

He rubbed the side of his head. It was-

There was a bump. It was smooth, just still raised just a little bit. It was so minuscule that no one would ever notice it. Unless it had been the source of their torture for the past year-

No! The device has been gone for- how long has he been back? Dick clenched his eyes shut in concentration- he left Spyral- he made it out- to where? Where did he go?

The room was spinning. Dick crumpled to the floor, his knees hitting the concrete painfully and sending jolts of pain up his legs. He tugged at his hair- he was in the cave- it was just the toxin-

Someone kneeled in front of him. Dick froze- his breath hitching as he forgot to breathe-

‘You don’t do that to another Robin!’ A fist connecting with his jaw-

No.

‘But you didn’t die. Did you? You just lied.’ 

No. The reaction was normal. It was fine. Dick had hurt them. 

They were mad. They needed time. He was alive. That was enough- they’d come around eventually-

Two hands cupped his face. “You are an idiot, Grayson.” Dick stared into Tiger’s green eyes. They were softer, kinder than normal. Dick couldn’t help but melt into the touch.

“Tiger…” He said the name like it was a lifeline. “Tiger. Make it stop.” Dick felt the tears prick the back of his eyes; he was so tired. He just wanted it all to end.

It made too much sense. His brother’s reactions. The isolation. Bruce, asking him to keep secrets from the family. Damian-

Dick thrashed, getting back to his feet. Tiger’s eyes turned darker, “You know how to end this, 37.”

Dick took a long, deep breath through his nose and controlled the release through his mouth. “Tony-“ his voice cracked. 

Tiger grabbed his face; sudden rage overtook his calm demeanor. “That’s Agent One, Grayson.” Dick gritted his teeth. This wasn’t his partner; it was the leader of a massive spy organization.

Tiger let him go, moving to circle him once again. Dick remained still, unsure of his orders. When Tiger appeared on his left-

Bruce studied him, worry pinching his face in a way that made him look constipated. Dick didn’t have the energy to scowl. “There are easier ways, Tig- Agent One.”

Bruce stopped in front of him, his baby blue eyes forcing Dick to hold his gaze. Dick searched for the missing piece. There was always something wrong with the hallucinations. Something that gave them away.  

How long had Dick been playing right into Spyral’s hand? Giving them access to who knows how many secrets- Dick’s eyes darted across his father’s face, and he had to choke back a sob. It was all fake. The last four months… no matter how awful they’d been, he had still been free. Free from Spyral. Free from the fear that nothing was real-

Except he never was. It was just a hallucination. Another way he failed.

But the worst part was that he was still trapped. He had been stuck in a wildly elaborate hallucination for four months. He felt his heart rate pick up. If all of this was just another Spyral trick- then that meant… no one had come for him. Bruce gave up on him- left him to erode at the mercy of Spyral. No one was coming for him. Maybe they never had been. Maybe Bruce sent him on this mission, made him fake his death, because he knew Dick wasn’t coming back.

Bruce’s face was concerned, more concerned than he had been for Dick in a long time- Dick took a step back as Bruce moved towards him- Dick blinked- his face was cracked and bruised. A cut above his brow, his lip split and bleeding-

He looked down at his hands; his knuckles were red with dried blood, and some were busted. He could only imagine what his own face looked like. He let out a choked laugh. This was how he’d left Bruce. Both of them broken and bleeding in more than the physical ways, “B,” Dick met Bruce’s gaze before pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes- god, his head hurt.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond while also reaching for Dick’s hand. Dick struck out, shoving his father back, “Stop!” Dick shouted, “You’re not even really here.” He finished in a sad whisper.

A figure walked behind Bruce. Glowing green eyes piercing the illusion Dick had allowed himself to slip back into. Tiger stood right behind Bruce. Peaking around the side of his broad shoulders due to his height. “You know how to end this.”

“I’m so stupid.” He muttered, glancing from Bruce to Tiger and back again. Dragging his hands down his face. He was tempted to reach out and punch fake-Bruce in the face. “I’m so fucking stupid.” Bruce moved slowly, reaching for his arm once more, this time with a syringe in hand.

“Dick. You’re in the cave. You’re safe. You’re seeing things that aren’t real.” Dick gave a short, cruel laugh at his father’s words.

“Really, Bruce?” Dick met the gaze of a man who wasn’t really there. One to whom Dick could speak freely without consequence. That was how he ended it. He had to confront the issues his family refused to acknowledge. Confront his weaknesses. His fears.

“Safe?” Dick laughed dryly. “Safe?” He repeated as his voice got louder, he took a step forward and re-entered Bruce’s space. “I haven’t been safe in a long time, Bruce. Not from the Crime Syndicate, not from Spyral, and definitely not from you.”

Dick winced as his vision flickered to Tiger grinning, his eyes almost shining with pride- to Bruce, eyes turning hard and cold at the challenge Dick presented, “You abandoned the mission. If you had just listened, we could have done so much more-”

Dick felt the dam of his emotions crack. Bruce didn’t understand. He could never understand what it was like. Being ripped away from your family, who didn’t even think you were alive, and forced to question who you are and what you stand for every single day-

He laughed suddenly. Turning away from his mentor and ran a hand through his hair. Of course, Bruce understood those feelings. He’d been lost in time- fighting for not only his life every day but also the existence of their timeline-

And didn’t that make it so much worse?

Bruce knew. He felt the loneliness. Felt the dread of knowing no one would know if you died. Felt the pain of being torn away from his family… and yet… he still pushed Dick into the same situation.

Dick spun around on Bruce once more, sudden fury filling his bones. “Haven't I given enough?!” He poked his own chest to emphasize his point. “I have given everything I have to this god damn mission, Bruce!”

Bruce opened his mouth, but Dick shook his head, “No! You don’t get to lecture me about doing more. You have everything.” Dick fought against a sob, waving to the cave around them. “I died! I fucking died, B! Luthor killed me- a-and I know it was me or the world, and it was necessary- but god Bruce- I can barely eat without feeling like my heart is going to stop.” Dick clenched his hands at his sides to stop the trembling. “Then you went and had my fucking funeral! And I joined Spyral. I-I did that for you. Not for the mission. Not for the League. Not for Batman. For my dad.” His voice cracked with emotion.

Dick tried to take a deep breath, but the dam was crumbling and everything was rushing out at once. “You have everything. And you don’t even realize it. Jason is back in our lives, Tim is basically running WE for you, Cass has come so far, and-” Dick breath hitched, “-Damian is alive-” His voice shook, tears coming to his eyes, making his vision blur. “You have everything. They are here, and you’re not even paying attention. They- they are more important than the mission.” Dick felt a weight come off his shoulders. The Batcave seemed to light up slightly, his brothers and sisters' forms appearing in a line behind Bruce.

Dick curled his hand into a fist over his chest, clutching at his shirt. “I lost that. I lost them.” Tiger was behind Dick now, placing a hand on his shoulder, through Dick wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be comforting or controlling. “I lost myself, too.”

A shudder ran through Dick. “There’s a lot I left out of my reports. It wasn’t relevant to the mission.” Dick shrugged and paused. No one moved. “But I got out. I escaped. I- I nearly didn’t.” Tiger squeezed his shoulder. An unpleasant reminder that he hadn’t escaped. But the hallucinations before him didn’t know that. “A-and then-“ 

He turned slightly to address his siblings. “You all were so mad. So distant and cold. And you!” He pointed a finger at Bruce. “You ordered me not to tell them. T-that it would tear us apart. But what about me, Bruce! What if it tore me apart?” Tears fell his face, his shoulders shook. “Some days the thought of seeing you all again is the only thing that reminds me who I am.”

“But none of it matters. This isn’t even real. And I’m going to wake up and still be stuck there.” He looked at Jason, then Tim, and then Cass. “You will all think I’m dead, and maybe it’s easier that way. You don’t have to grieve me twice.” There were sharp intakes of air from the group, but Dick had already moved on. He moved closer to them, stepping around Bruce without even looking at him.

He turned to Damian and kneeled to look at his stunned brother. “Even if this has all been a hallucination and you’re s-still dead-“ Damian sucked in a sharp breath. “Thank you. For seeing me. For being there.” Dick cupped his cheeks, wiping away the tears that were flowing. “I’m so proud of you, Dami. My Robin.”

Dick tugged Damian into a bone-crushing hug, resting his head on top of Damian’s. Planting kisses in his hair and enjoying the smell of his shampoo. Damian wrapped his arms around Dick tightly, fisting his hands in the back of his hoodie. “Richard-” He gasped.

Dick hadn’t stopped crying; his breath shuddered. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart.” He held Damian tighter.

He felt a pinch at the back of his neck. He just kept whispering. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Even as he fought the darkness. Because he knew that he would wake up in his living nightmare. Tiger would congratulate him for completing the exercise. Maybe even promote him. 

But he would be alone. Bruce wouldn’t be there. His siblings wouldn’t be there. He would once again be living in a world without Damian… Without his Robin… Without his-

Chapter Text

Tim shifted in his bed, pulling the covers around him tighter, for what felt like the 100th time that night. He groaned and flipped onto his stomach. He reached to check his phone for the time. Batman had only sent them all to bed 30 minutes ago, meaning he would still be awake and monitoring Dick. Meaning Tim couldn’t sneak onto the Batcomputer to work.

Tim gave another frustrated groan and sat up in bed, letting the covers pool around his waist. He rubbed one of his eyes and grabbed his discarded laptop from his side table. He opened it, refreshing the window that displayed everything they've gathered on Dick's... situation so far. As well as a small window with Dick's vitals. A feature Oracle had installed for her own peace of mind, but one Tim found himself using almost any time someone was hurt.

He stared at the screen for a moment. His own voice replaying in the back of his head like a broken record; ‘But you didn’t die. Did you? You just lied.’

Tim sighed heavily, grabbed his laptop, and threw the covers off of him. His room felt suffocating. The walls echoed feelings of guilt and anger from all around him. He glanced at the picture on his bedside table. It was a picture of everyone- except Dick- gathered on and around Tim’s bed. Tim had been on the tail end of fighting off a virus that had left him bedridden for days. Even Jason was leaning up against the edge of the bed, flipping off the camera. The only reason he was not depicted was that Dick was the one taking the picture. Standing on Tim’s desk in the corner so that he could get everyone in.

He felt his heart clench as he ran his hand over the picture. The movie marathon had been Dick’s idea. After Tim’s fever-ridden mind told the older boy that he was so tired of feeling like a placeholder —a replacement —in their family. Tim was sure no one was given a choice to be there or not, but to Tim, it reminded him that he had a place —a home —where everyone wanted him.

Tim didn’t seem to notice the two tears making their way down his face. He gripped the picture and pulled his arm back in preparation to chuck the memory-

… But Dick had given him the framed photo about a week later. Planting a kiss on Tim’s forehead, ‘Those are the people who will always want you.’ Dick had said, pointing to the photo. ‘Not because you're smart, or an excellent fighter, but because you are Timothy Drake-Wayne. Our brother.’

The photo fell onto the bed, Tim lowering his face into his hands, the tears coming freely now. How many times had Dick gone out of his way to show his undying, unconditional love for him? For every one of their family members? In the little ways, like an impromptu movie night and a photo, and in big ways, like taking on the cowl- something Tim knew Dick hated- for Gotham and for them.

He covered his mouth to quiet the choked gasp as all these emotions came over him. He saw Dick’s shaking form as he seized for the third time- saw the flashes of pain in his brother’s eyes in response to Tim lashing out- saw the tremble in Dick’s hands when he showed up on that rooftop, alive-

His room felt more than suffocating now; it felt like it was drowning him. He shuffled out of his room, bare feet silent on the carpet. He strode down the hall- tears tracking down his face- reaching the door to his destination, before pausing. His hand lay on the doorknob. Would Dick be okay with him invading his personal space like this? After everything- the taunting, the avoidance, the anger?

Then again, Dick hadn’t stayed in this room since before his ‘death’ anyway. It was clean, Alfred refusing to allow any dust to settle in his grief, and had only been used by Dick’s younger siblings. Grabbing a hoodie or a shirt. Sitting on the bed, desperate for the glimpse of that reassuring smile- 

Tim let out a shaky breath. He remembered catching Bruce sitting on Dick’s bed just a few weeks before Dick’s return. Rubbing the sheets, brows furrowed in thought. Tim had shuffled past fast, not wanting to encroach on his father’s private moment of grief- unable to forget the silent tear tracks on his father's face that were edged into his memory. 

Though Dick hadn’t been dead. Something Bruce had been aware of. Tim didn’t want to think of the implications that moment meant now that he knew their father was involved in Dick’s stunt.

Tim sighed, grabbing the doorknob with newfound determination. He opened it, expecting to find a completely dark but tidy room. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at the small figure tightly wrapped in the covers, folded in on itself.

The detective realized with a start that he had not seen Damian since he stormed out of the cave hours ago. Tim’s fingers twitched towards his little brother’s sleeping form. A few months ago, when they thought Dick was dead, Tim wouldn’t have hesitated to join his brother. In fact, he had, in this very bed, neither knowing how to cope with such a profound loss. So, they turned to each other and to their other siblings. Learning to rely on one another in an attempt to fill the holes in their hearts.

Then, when Dick had returned, Tim lashed out in anger and hurt. In contrast, Damian had simply been overjoyed that his Richard had come back to them. Their individual reactions caused them to step back in their own relationship.

Tim hadn’t even realized how much he had missed his baby brother. He took a step closer to the bed, slowly sitting on the edge in an effort not to wake him. Damian’s eyes were closed, and he was still facing away from Tim.

“Quit staring like a stalker, Drake, and make yourself comfortable.” Damian did not open his eyes as he spoke, nor did his breathing give any indication that he was awake.

Tim sucked in a small breath, hesitating slightly. Damian sighed; the slight catch at the end told Tim that he’d been crying as well. The younger scooted to the side, still refusing to look at Tim, but muttering, “There is plenty of room, especially for your twig form.”

The edges of Tim’s lips curled upwards. He lifted the covers and made himself comfortable. “If you hog the bed, I’ll kick you.” Both Damian and Tim pretended not to hear the slight tremor in Tim’s voice.

. . 

Jason lifted his head from the book he was reading as the monitor beeping in time with Dick’s heart rate picked up pace. He shot out of his chair and pressed the call button that went to Bruce’s room.

The book was discarded on the chair as Jason went to his brother’s side. “Dick?” 

The bat in question didn’t react, but his head jerked to the side, and a whine escaped through his lips.

Bruce burst through the door, still in his sleep clothes, “What’s going on?” He was breathing heavily, though Jason didn’t think it was from the running.

“I think he’s coming out of it.” Jason switched sides with Bruce silently so that the older man could get a better look at the readings. He hummed, agreeing with Jason’s theory.

They both turned their attention back to Dick as his whole body jerked, his arms knocking over a medical tray as he woke with a gasp. Jason moved backwards to avoid getting hit with it. Dick was clutching his chest, gasping for air like he’d been drowning.

His eyes were wide but unfocused, his hands trembling. Jason approached the bed slowly, holding his hands up and keeping his voice level. “Hey, Dickie.”

Bruce apparently had the same idea, “We’re here. You’re safe.” Jason’s heart clenched at the use of Bruce’s ‘dad’ voice. It was soft and gentle, and was used to make you think everything was going to be okay.

At the sound of their voices, Dick winced, his eyes fluttering closed as he fell back onto the bed. Jason wasn’t sure if it was out of relief or exhaustion. Bruce adjusted the bed to sit at a more comfortable angle.

“Are you with us, chum?” The ‘dad’ voice slipped into a ‘concerned dad’ voice. Which meant the Batman was not far away. Dick winced. Jason turned to flick one of the light switches off, hoping it would help if Dick’s head hurt. “Dick?” Bruce said again, more firmly. The acrobat sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Shut it, old man,” Jason whispered, realizing that they were talking too loudly.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Dick cut him off, “Jay?” His eyes were slits, but they tried to focus on the others in the room. Jason hummed an answer so that he didn’t contribute to his brother’s distress. He grabbed a glass of water Alfred had laid out, bringing the straw to Dick’s lips.

But while he was taking sips, Dick froze- his gaze finally focusing on Jason and sending off alarms in the younger’s head. He took away the glass, but not before Dick nearly choked on it. Jason realized that he was being stared at with big blue eyes- there was confusion and a profound sadness in those eyes. 

Dick pressed himself into the bed, trying to scoot as far away from Jason as he could. “Little Wing?” Jason had to suppress a wince at how broken his older brother sounded.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He continued to speak softly, biting his lower lip as he contemplated his actions. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his brother’s hand, making Dick gasp.

Dick looked from his hand, which held Jason’s, back to his face. “What are you seeing?” Bruce kept his voice void of emotion, but Jason saw the minute crinkle of his eyes. Bruce was moving from concerned to worried.

Dick shook his head, almost as if he was trying to clear whatever he was seeing. He swallowed, “It’s not real.” Jason squeezed Dick’s hand, opening his mouth to respond-

“The effects should have warned off hours ago.” Bruce turned to the synthesizer that currently held a vial of Dick’s blood that they’d taken hours ago. “I’ll need a new blood sample-”

Dick’s head snapped to Bruce so hard that Jason nearly jumped. “What?” Dick spoke in a harsh whisper. Surprise and hurt laced the words with a rawness that Jason wasn’t used to hearing from him.

Bruce turned slowly, making eye contact with Jason for a moment, an eyebrow slightly raised, before looking back at Dick. “I will need more blood. I can get Alfred, if you would prefer he-”

Dick scrambled out of the bed, wincing as he placed the bed between him and Bruce. “Why would- I didn’t- it was that or let Scarecrow shoot Damian-” His breathing was ragged, the IV was ripped from his arm, not that Dick seemed to notice the thin line of blood on his forearm.

Jason narrowed his gaze. It was like Dick was having a completely different conversation-

Oh.

Dick was seeing and hearing things. He reached for Dick’s arm, to get his attention- and was met with a sharp elbow to the ribs-

He winced as Dick slipped past him and out the door. “Jeez, when Dickhead get so bony?” Jason asked Bruce, not waiting for an answer before darting after his brother. The older man fell in step behind him.

They caught Dick swearing under his breath; he was taking measured breaths, but panic still rolled off of him in waves. He glanced at the glass wall that led to the medbay before shaking his head. Jason stopped a few feet away, not wanting to set him off. Since Dick was obviously still dealing with the effects of the toxin.

Dick’s back was turned slightly toward him, and once he got closer, Jason couldn’t suppress the sharp intake of air as he laid eyes on the scars- new scars- that poked from the tank top. Lighter patches of healed wounds that Jason did not know of. 

Dick turned suddenly towards the locker that held his spare clothes, grabbing a hoodie and tugging it on in haste. “Dick?” Jason walked slowly towards his brother, keeping his hands in sight and non-threatening. He was able to see the tremble in Dick’s hands as the hoodie covered Dick’s form. “Can you tell us what you're hearing?”

Dick tensed, sucking in a breath, but didn’t turn around to look at them. “I-I don’t think it’s gone yet. I think I’m hearing things, and d-definitely seeing things.” 

Jason resisted the urge to mutter, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’ But the thought evaporated when Dick finally turned around- and his eyes went wide with fear. He pressed himself back into the lockers- seemingly unaware of the uncomfortable way it had to be pressing into his back.

Dick’s eyes were wide, darting all across the room at unseen details. He opened his mouth- before an awful choking sound escaped his throat- like all the air had been stolen from his body-

Jason took a step forward, but Bruce was already moving. Dick slammed his head into the lockers behind him- Jason was frozen as he watched Dick seem to forget how to breathe.

“Dick! Breathe!” Bruce gripped his shoulders, making Dick look up at him with a gaze that looked at Bruce, but did not see him.

“Y-you need to go-” Dick gasped with the effort to get the words out. Jason was overcome with a sudden sense of Deja vu- a video coming to mind that had plagued Jason’s nightmares since the day it was broadcast, even after finding out it was staged. “You- still have time-” 

Dick seemed to be falling further into a pit of panic. He grabbed Bruce’s wrists, tight enough to bruise through the sleeves. Bruce cupped Dick’s face with his hands, his voice swaying to the side of panic, “You’re not there. There’s no bomb. There’s no pill- Dick!” Dick’s legs gave out, but Bruce caught him, laying him on the floor.

Dick’s eyes were shut tight and his entire body was shaking, spasming for oxygen-

The device on Dick’s forehead, which had been producing a steady green light, flickered yellow. Bruce and Jason shared a look. Before either of them could move, there was a rustling of movement as Cassandra appeared, her little brothers on her heels, with an oxygen mask.

Tim looked at the device and frowned, placing his laptop- seemingly produced out of nowhere- on the desk by the Batcomputer. His eyebrows pinched in confused determination.

Jason quickly reigned in his surprise and focused his gaze, which was producing a slight green tint, towards Bruce. “What fucking pill, Bruce?” 

Bruce stood from where he was kneeling over Dick, and turned to join Tim, “It’s not important, Jason.” His voice was back to steady and level, not even glancing at Jason when he spoke.

But Jason recognized the set position of Bruce’s jaw. There was guilt there, and whatever the hell Dick had just relived, he knew about it. “The fuck it’s not! What-”

Tim’s eye twitched in irritation, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “Both of you shut up- I think I got it!”

In tandem with Tim’s words, Dick let out a cry of pain, jolting to a sitting position- Tim cursed under his breath, Dick reached for the device, and Jason took a step towards him-

But Cass, who was still kneeling next to him, took his hands in hers softly. After he took a few deep breaths with her, she removed the oxygen mask. Jason heard him whisper her name, and a warmth of relief bloomed in his chest. At least Dick was coming back to reality-

Jason barely had a second to react before Dick twisted sharply and vomited, a few paces from where Jason had been standing. “Jesus.” He muttered. The vomiting quickly turned to dry heaving, and he turned back to Bruce in order not to have to think about how empty his brother’s stomach appeared to be.

He looked at Bruce, hovering over Tim and Damian. The younger of the two, having stuck closely to Tim’s side (Jason was going to have to think about that later), they worked on something, and it clicked. “Holy fuck.” 

Cass looked up at him as she was helping Dick stand. Dick had been hit with a fear gas… and had been transported back to his ‘staged’ death, clearly hyperventilating from the fear of pills being forced down his throat- again- Jason’s vision turned a little greener. “Holy shit,” he said again, because the pieces clicking together in his head absolutely could not be fitting right. He pointed a finger at Bruce, ignoring how it shook with rage. “You- you said it was staged.” He had to get the words out through gritted teeth, pushing the green down.

Tim and Damian looked at him with confusion, Cass’s expression was blank, and Bruce- 

Bruce looked guilty. 

Then green got darker, spreading across his body far too quickly. “You said Dick’s ‘death’ was staged!” Jason shouted, loud enough for bats to flutter above them, his breathing picking up.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond as Jason moved to close the distance between them. Bruce glanced at Dick, his face turning into a forced-controlled expression. It could almost be read as a cry for help with the situation, and fuck- Bruce asking for help with managing the situation from Dick? Someone still being torn apart by fear toxin, but who would always step up to help his family- even if it meant tearing himself apart-

“Jay-” Dick began, but he still sounded far away, and Jason wondered how much of this he was perceiving correctly, if at all.

Jason shoved Bruce, not as hard as he could with the brats right behind him, but hard enough to make him step back. As he did, he planted himself in the line of sight from Bruce to Dick. “Nuh uh, Dickhead. He’s going to fucking answer.” 

Jason heard Dick try to move forward, resulting too physically separating the two if his words weren’t enough- Cass grabbed his wrist, and Jason was never more grateful for her observation skills.

Cass’s gaze darted between each member of the family, who were all staring at Bruce, waiting for his rebuttal- Jason, his eyes bright green and getting brighter with each passing moment. Her brother, who led with anger and pain, but who also cared so deeply and held back his form in a way that screamed the desire for hope. Hope to be wrong. Hope that the picture he was painting for all of them was skewed.

Tim was rapidly looking from Jason, to Bruce’s back, to Dick, trying to understand the problem and solve it. Too focused on the fix before the hurt can even fully come out.

Damian, who was never this quiet, nor made himself so small, was standing slightly behind Tim, but his gaze was fixed on Dick. The protective look in his eyes and his ready stance. Told Cass there was a depth to their relationship that no one else in their family understood yet, except maybe Alfred, who had been here, with them, during Bruce’s absence.

Bruce kept his gaze fixed on the problem- the threat- Cass resisted a wince; it was his normal stance for any confrontation, whether it be physical or not. But it closed off his mind, made him focus on making it out rather than listening and responding.

And Dick- Dick was breathing faster than normal, she wasn’t sure if he had even noticed Tim and Damian’s presence yet, and was locked into Bruce. Cass had seen the look in all Bruce’s protégés; it was quite simply ‘tell me what to do’. But seeing the look in the cave- not out in the field where it was being used to help mitigate as much conflict as possible- as if it was Dick’s job to ease the situation for Bruce- Cass took a deep breath.

Then there was also the look in Dick’s eyes. Like he wasn’t completely there, like he wasn’t quite sure this was all real- and maybe Cass could chalk it up to the toxin- maybe she would if she hadn’t seen the same look a few weeks ago.

. . 

Black Bat had spotted Nightwing racing across rooftops in Gotham, which was strange because he was never seen in Gotham anymore, unless Batman called for him. Cass hadn’t even seen him since his return from the ‘dead’, so to say she was quick to follow was an understatement.

She kept her distance, deciding not to radio in her change in course, because if Nightwing wanted the rest of the BatClan to know he was here- he would have done it himself. But when the black and blue vigilante finally hopped down into an alley, she perched herself on the ledge to watch. Seven men were moving in on Nightwing, not counting the two he’d already left unconscious on the alley floor. Cass twitched to jump down and help. She knew he was more than capable of taking out seven guys on his own, but it left lots of openings for risks that the group didn’t normally take- but Nightwing hadn’t been working in their group for a long time.

That fact became increasingly obvious as more and more men dropped to the ground. Cass watched with fascination. She knew all her family’s fighting styles by heart. At first, it was out of self-preservation and habit, but now it allowed her to work with each flawlessly, to become a unit.

So she was able to see how Dick’s moves were more controlled than they used to be, but also that the said control was forced, like he knew he would go too far if he wasn’t careful. It was the certainty of the threat that surprised Cass. Sure, they all could go too far (often did, in Jason’s case, though he also has been holding back more), and some, like herself and Damian, knew how thin that line really was. It was fairly similar to Cass’s own style, and yet the part that disturbed her the most was how un-Dick it was.

Cass watched as Dick’s eczema sticks were knocked out of his hands, and one goon managed to land a hit to the side of his head. Cass crouched, hand on her grapple, but the guy was down by her next blink, and Dick was back in control with a simple groin kick.

There was only one guy left standing, who was backing up with fear in his eyes. Nightwing stalked towards him, like a predator and prey. Cass felt a shiver go up her spine. There was no theatrics, no ready quips or acrobatics this entire fight. It felt wrong. Felt… hollow.

The man reached to the small of his back for a gun- Cass stood, her heart picking up- Nightwing’s hand reached to his side- exactly where a hip holster would sit- she froze-

He quickly recovered from the absent weapon and finally leaped, using a double-hand spring to knock the guy out while avoiding the array of bullets. Cass let go of the breath she’d been holding. But- Dick just stood over the man, staring at his hands. A full two minutes went by before Cass lowered herself down at the mouth of the alleyway.

Dick didn’t move, and now she could see the tremble in his hands- and a distant look in his eye. Like he wasn’t really there or that he wasn’t really real-

She took a step and Dick’s head snapped up, he sucked in a sharp breath and held a wingding in between his fingers. He blinked rapidly, lowering the weapon, and Cass watched as Dick transformed back into her brother.

“Ca- Black Bat! Hey!” He smiled brightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned down to zip-tie the attackers. “It’s so good to see you! Works out cause you can call these dooshbags into GCPD!”

Cass took a step closer, feeling off-center, though she didn’t know why; this was her brother. “Gotham?” She said, pulling out her own zip ties.

Dick’s smile dipped a little, “Yeah, these assholes tried to make a break to Gotham when I busted their human trafficking ring.” He poked one of the unconscious goon’s faces, his face turning dark. “Tried to distract me by setting the place on fire. With the victims inside.” Black Bat’s eyes went wide. Dick explained that he got them all out, which is why they were able to get into Gotham in the first place.

Black Bat made the call to Gordon, receiving a grunt telling her to call for backup next time there were nine assailants from Batman. She hummed, looking over at Nightwing as he picked up his eczema sticks, who had taken out an entire ring with no backup. She wasn’t even sure he even had a comm, considering Oracle hadn’t said he was in the city.

Nightwing moved to a better angle to shoot the grapple, and when he neared Cass, she saw his hands twitch at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to reach out. He rubbed his hand through his hair instead, “Good to see you, Cassie.” Then he was gone, and Cass felt her own arms longing for her brother’s embrace.

. .

Cass shuttered, seeing the same hollowed-out look in Dick’s eyes now, her arms still longing to hold her big brother. She’d only seen him in costume since then, but she’s been helping with the Titians and traveling-

An unfamiliar feeling settled in her gut and chest, making her brow furrow. Cass sometimes had trouble identifying her own emotions and even letting herself feel the unfamiliar ones- something Dick was often the one who helped her settle them and understand them. The feeling grew.

The tense, silent-filled moment broke as whatever program Tim had been running popped up on the Batcomputer. They all looked at the screen. At first, it only showed static, and then the cave came into focus. The screen was a mirror to their current positions, except it was exactly from where Dick was standing.

“I- I hacked into the device- it seems to be analyzing Dick’s reaction to the toxin to create the most terrifying hallucination possible. It’s even activating the dormant solution in his blood-” Tim started ranting, even as Bruce stepped in front of him to type away- both he and Damian moved to stand closer to Jason.

“What are you-” Dick muttered, confusion on his face. They all watched as the Batcomputer in Dick’s hallucination came to life.

“Tim, how do I shut it-” Bruce began, but no one was listening. They stared, each in various states of horror-

The screen (in the screen) showed a video of Bruce and Dick fighting in the cave. Which would have been normal, but this was not normal sparing or even their occasional screaming matches. They were both bleeding from various cuts, Dick was favoring his right leg heavily, and Bruce’s movements were a little slurred. They watched as Dick was thrown across a table- various glass instruments shattering as he landed on them. Dick stood shakily, taking a step back from his father.

“I won't do it! I can’t do that the them, Bruce! Jay, Cass, Timmy, Dam-” He choked on the last name. Because Damian was dead. They had just lost him, and then not long after- Dick had been lost too.

Bruce didn’t react to the names. Didn’t react to anything besides the threat in front of him. “You must go. You are the only one I can trust with this mission.” He landed a punch right across Dick’s jaw, making the younger man crumble to the floor, hand on his face. “You’re compromised, Dick. The world knows your identity. We will never get another opportunity-”

Dick didn’t get back up. His face fell into his hands. “I can’t, Bruce! Fuck, I-I just died and you’ve already had my funeral!” He looked towards the entrance to the manor. “We just lost Dami-” his voice cracks at the name- “I can’t do that to them-”

The video cuts off suddenly. Bruce has a set of wires in his hand. The motherboard is still sparking, and he’s panting, fist trembling around the wires. Whether it’s from the secret being revealed or guilt over his actions, Cass can’t tell. Maybe she could, if her chest wasn’t alight with pure rage-

Then Jason is there, a loud, primal yell tears through the cave as he shoves Bruce against the desk with no ounce of control like he displayed earlier-

Dick tenses, but he still has that faraway look in his eyes. “Stop-” the sound is barely a whisper.

Jason pins Bruce to the desk, raising a fist, “Was it worth it, Bruce?” He seethes loudly, the fist trembling in the air. “Losing yet another kid for the mission?” Bruce doesn’t even try to defend himself-

Cass can see Dick pulling himself to the present, forcing his eyes to focus on the fight before him. He is trembling, and she has to take some of his weight for him to remain standing. “Stop!” 

Dick twists, orienting himself towards Tim and Damian, recognizing them for the first time. Tim is staring at Dick, his eyes wide and going wetter by the second. “You didn’t want to go.” 

Tim feels his own breathing picking up- Dick, his big brother, the first person to make this place feel like a home- to make them a family- was thrust out from it, by their father-

In a flash, Tim saw every time he’s ignored Dick in the last four months- every snarky, hurtful, comment- every eye roll and dismissal-

“But you didn’t die, did you? You just lied.”

But… he hadn’t lied. Dick had been pushed into a mission he didn’t even want to go on- right after dying… because that had been real. Not staged. Like Bruce claimed, after Dick’s return. Tim felt himself spiraling- Did he get medical care? There’s no telling what aftereffects he’s been facing from his death- Did Bruce keep him updated on them all? Was there an extraction plan? What contingencies were in place if only Bruce knew-

Why had he never wondered about these questions when Dick came back?

Why did Bruce do it? Why did-

“He made you.” Tim hated how broken the words sounded to his own ears. He was not blind to his own hero worship of Batman- of even Bruce. The father Tim had never had, and yet somehow he had found- A man he went to when the nightmares or the crushing weight of the mission got too much- The man that held him and told him he loved him when he told him about Kon-

But this was also the man who held his (alive) son’s funeral and forced him to join an international spy organization- having to go through who knows what- Tim didn’t miss the gun on Agent 37’s side when he revealed himself to Tim on that rooftop- nor did he miss the hollow, almost dead, look in his eyes as Tim and Jason rejected him-

Tim’s hands were slick with sweat. Dick was approaching, eyes wide with concern and panic- still moving to comfort his little brother who had done nothing but hurt him-

“Richard?” Tim froze. His brain was taking a second too long to match the voice to the owner. Damian sounded so vulnerable, so shaky in a way that Tim thought he never should.

Damian stared at his older brother, his Batman, with a mix of confusion, anger- and fear. Though he would never admit it out loud. 

Richard had been working with Damian to see emotions as less of an inconvenience and more as natural reactions to outside stimuli. Something to be experienced. Studied. It… was helpful. Together, they’d even found a way for Damian to express the more ‘suppressed’ emotions- though he rolled his eyes at Richard’s terminology- through art. Emotions like fear. And grief. And love.

And then Damian had died. Upon return, he found that Richard was not here to resume their studies. His siblings had tried. Damian was not blind to the ways Todd had stepped up to take on more ‘older brother’ responsibilities. Coming for dinner on Fridays, picking him up from school. Nor did he miss Drake’s attempts at ‘bonding’ by training together more, asking for his help on cases that Damian knew he did not need. And Cain stayed. She stayed in the manor and was somehow able to tell when Damian needed to punch something, or get out of the house, or needed patience while he figured out what he needed himself.

But they weren’t Richard. They weren’t the person who met all his stubbornness and aggression head-on and with so much care and patience. They weren’t the one that had no obligation to stay after Father’s ‘death’ but did anyway. They didn’t make him Robin. They weren’t his Batman.

For the first time in a long time, since he came back, Damian saw his Richard before him. Damian’s gaze shifted to his Father, and hardened. If he were Todd, he knew he would be seeing green. He moved around Drake- the knife a deadly comfort in his hands- eyes set on his father with deadly intent-

He only made it a few paces before his path was suddenly blocked by his kneeling brother, who disarmed him and wrapped him in an impossibly tight embrace. Damian fought, thrashing in the hold and pounding his fists on Richard’s chest and shoulder. “YOU-” he screamed at the man still being held against the desk by Todd. “You took him away from us! You let us grieve and mourn for him!” Damian was surprised at the feeling of wetness on his cheeks.

The computer repeated his own words back to him, and Damian let himself feel annoyed that no one had turned it off for just a second. “Stop- please stop-” Richard buried his face and Damian’s shoulder, making the smaller of the two freeze. 

“Come on, Dickie!” Todd moved to kneel in front of Richard. “You don’t have to defend him anymore!”

Richard flinched, although Damian could feel that he tried to suppress it. The computer chirped to life, ‘Can’t face your own failures?’ Todd's voice came out, making everyone except Damian and Richard look at the screen.

Damian pulled away to look Richard in the eye. “I hate him. He is not my father.” The loathing in his voice was clear. The computer repeated his words as if to emphasize the point.

Richard grabbed his shoulders, shaking his head, his eyes alight with so much guilt that it made Damian’s throat close up. “No, no, baby-”

“He made you-” Damian began, eyes flickering to his father.

“But I still went!” Richard shouted, squeezing Damian’s shoulders. His blown pupils darted to each in the room, and his voice became thick as he spoke. “I went. A-and I did awful things. I-” He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly to ground himself. Damian stared.

“I let him send me away.” Richard’s eyes were open again, the same profound guilt plaguing his features. “Even if it was awful, and even if it broke me in more ways than I can count- I let him make me go. I let him take me away from you all- from my family. And that’s on me.”

Tim and Damian were trying to shout over each other, each attempting to convey how fucked Dick’s viewpoint was. Even Cass was hastily signing, trying to communicate the words faster than she could speak them. The two elders shared a look, and Jason threw his hands up in the air before dragging them down his face. “This is so fucked! That doesn’t even make any sense!”

Jason turned back to Bruce, sucking in a breath through his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick lift Damian into his arms, like a mother koloa. Tim had moved back to the computer, ignoring Bruce. He was muttering under his breath- Jason was pretty sure he heard ‘eldest daughter syndrome’ in there somewhere.

Jason absolutely did not jump when Dick grabbed his wrist, tugging him away from the conflict. From Bruce. When did Dick’s steps get so quiet? He found himself being pulled with surprising strength, but he still managed to grab the back of Tim’s shirt and force him to join his fate.

Cass was pulled by Tim, and in any other situation, the group would have been cackling by the sheer lack of coordination between them all. It might have been enough to even bring a smirk to the Demon Spawn’s face.

Damian. Damian's face. Jason corrected himself. He’d stopped with the ‘Demon Spawn’ and ‘Replacement’ nicknames after Dick died. Because they were never really nicknames. Just outlets for Jason’s misplaced anger.

Jason gave Bruce a hard look but then turned away, not wanting to see whatever sad expression he was wearing, and even worse- not wanting to see a blank one.

Tim was still muttering under his breath, “Stupid fucking- I cannot believe- idiot! Such an idiot, Drake!” He rushed around the room, desperate for something to do. He threw his laptop on a tray and then got stuff to collect a blood sample, before moving to simply fidget with various supplies.

Jason stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. Cass moved to take over the blood collection. She looked as calm and collected as ever, but when Dick saw her, he said, “We’re gonna figure this out, Cass. I’m okay.” 

He was unable to suppress the snort. Because, of course, Dick would notice his little sister’s signs of stress and worry that no one else could, and of course, he would want to say something to help, even if it was a bold-faced lie. “Yeah, right. You’re fine, and I was fine after being blown up by the Joker.”

Jason ignored the glare Damian shot his way and turned to Tim as he tapped excitedly on the laptop and fist bumped the air. Like a total nerd. “There! I’m in!” Jason moved to the screen to peer over the said nerd’s shoulder. He saw his own side profile stare back at him.

“Great. Now, how to stop the shit show?” Jason peered down at Tim, who opened his mouth to respond-

‘Great. A front row seat to Dick’s descent into madness.’ Jason’s own voice came through the device, making everyone’s heads snap towards it, tensing. Jason growled and threw his hands up in defeat. The confirmation of the audio hallucinations didn’t make any of them feel any better about it.

Dick wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed his biceps, making him look much smaller than Jason was used to. “Do we know how much longer this is gonna last, Timmy?”

Tim, who had already moved back to the computer after putting Dick’s blood in a machine, rolled his shoulders in an attempt to appear more relaxed than he was. “It’s hard to tell. I just got in the mainframe, so I’m gonna try to hack it.”

‘How the fuck should I know? Can’t you figure it out yourself?’ Tim’s voice rang through the computer. Mouths dropped from around the room, and Tim’s blew wide, whipping around to look at Dick fully.

Jason scoffed, because if it was Dick’s own mind being used against him, then he must have lost it somewhere along the way, because Timbers would never speak to him-

Except he had. They both had. The few times they’d seen their brother over the past four months had been met with nothing but cold shoulders and witty- no- hurtful comments. Jason felt his chest tighten, guilt settling in his gut, and he knew it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Dick- who now had pulled his legs up to his chest- spoke softly, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “M-maybe just write it down?” Tim nodded, guilt and frustration making his hand shake as he wrote. Jason decided not to comment on it.

After Tim wrote and Dick read, Jason grabbed the pad and wrote his own message. ‘After this, we need to talk.’ Jason watched as Dick read the message once. Then twice. He saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

Jason turned as Damian grabbed the pad next, putting his hands on his hips. He looked out at the cave. Bruce was sitting at the desk, elbows on his knees, and hands in his hands. Alfred stood in front of him, a knowing finger angrily pointing at Bruce and then towards the medbay at them. Jason winced. It was never fun to be on the receiving end of an Alfred Pennyworth tongue-lashing. Not that Bruce didn’t deserve it.

He tuned back in at the sound of Tim’s growing panic, “T-there’s no telling how bad it’ll be. It could make you go into a coma- it could last for hours- it could kill you-”

Jason’s hand twitched towards his brother. The past year had brought them all closer together, and as much as Jason hated to admit it- he’d done his fair share of calming the Overthinker down. But Dick was faster. He pulled Tim into a tight hug, and Jason could almost see him mentally locking away his own anxiety and uncertainty to comfort his brother. “Shh, Timmy, it’s gonna be okay. I’m going to be fine.” Dick soothed. Yeah, Jason wasn’t on that level.

After a moment, Tim visibly relaxed, and Jason wondered if Dick's hugs still felt the same after all this time- like a big blanket and safety. Tim shifted, and Dick immediately let the boy go, although Jason saw the flash of longing in his eyes. Christ, when was the last time Jason had hugged him? When was the last time any of them had hugged him? Their older brother, who thrived on physical affection?

Jason sighed and clapped his hands, “I guess I’ll take the first babysitting shift.” He gently pushed Tim and Cass towards the door. Tim started to protest, but Jason cut him off. “Can it, Timbers. There’s nothing you can do tonight.”

Dick was saying something to Damian when he turned back to them, but Damian had that determined look on his face that Jason knew all too well. He leaned down to Damian’s ear. “I need you to make sure Timmy actually gets some sleep.” 

Dick looked at him as Damin stomped up the stairs, raising an eyebrow. Jason shrugged and plopped down in the chair next to the gurney. He pretended to stare at the ceiling for a bit, while watching Dick out of the corner of his eye. The acrobat was picking at the skin around his nails, a faraway, increasingly glossy look in his eyes.

“You look like shit.” Jason sat up in the chair a little, a little desperate for some life to come back into Dick’s eyes.

Dick shrugged, his lips twitching upwards. “Been a long night.”

Jason sighed. Because yeah. But also no. “Not just tonight. Ya look like you got run over with a bus and walked in the desert for a couple of days.” Dick sucked in a small breath, hand reaching to rub the side of his head- but it wasn’t for comfort. He was tracing, searching. For something?

“Been a long couple of months. Well, years. I guess you could say.” Dick curled in on himself more. Jason narrowed his gaze. He had been raised by the world's greatest detective, and he felt the familiar pull of mystery and unanswered questions. There was a lot there. A lot he didn’t know, a lot Dick had never told him.

‘Would you have listened?’ A little voice at the back of his head said, and the feeling of guilt in his stomach grew. Because he probably wouldn’t have. Maybe not even before Dick’s return from Spyral. Before the anger and betrayal- Jason forced a deep breath into his lungs.

He saw the first few tears slide down Dick’s face, his eyes going wide because- no. Jason didn’t think he could handle a wet, sobbing, mess of an older brother- sure, he wasn’t as emotionally constipated as Bruce- but that?! That’s not what he signed up for-

Then they just kept coming, and sure enough, Dick was sobbing. His shoulder shook and his voice cracked, “I’m so sorry. You all weren’t supposed to find out like that- or at all. I just wanted- I just wanted things to go back to normal.”

Jason moved to sit beside him on the bed, unsure of how to orient his body. A spark of irritation flew past his lips, “Dick, you have got to stop covering his ass for him-”

Dick’s head snapped up, “And what? Be the reason you all hate him? He’s your dad-”

“He’s your dad, too!” Jason shouted, his vision going solid green for a second. He realized he was standing in front of Dick again, shaking his shoulders. Because wasn’t that the bottom line? Dick always stepping up for a man who never stepped up to the task for him? Who failed their oldest time and time again? And yet Dick always came back, always saw the good in him-

“You don’t understand. You can’t understand.” Dick cupped his cheek, another glassy gaze falling on his brother, and Jason shivered.

“Then make me understand, Dickiebird.” Jason pleaded, willing the lump in his throat to go down.

Dick went rigid, sucking in a sharp breath, and he jumped back, but Jason held on to his shoulders-

The indicator light on the device blinked red.

Shit shit shit-

Jason flicked the alert button- They thought they had time- the original look into the device predicted that it would need time to analyze Dick’s fears- Jason felt his own heartbeat pick up-

“Jay?” The sound was weak and breathless- but his eyes were wide, digging holes into Jason’s own-

“Stay with me, Dick-” Jason’s words died in his throat as Dick collapsed forward, his eyes rolling in the back of his head- “Dick!” Jason wailed, his voice cracking with worry and panic- then before he could think better of it he screamed, “Bruce!”

Chapter Text

“Bruce!” Jason screamed, the sound echoing through the cave and making some of the resident bats flutter. He braced himself as Dick’s body fell into his, but the older of the two was surprisingly light as Jason guided him to lie on the bed. Jason was getting sick of seeing Dick in this bed.

Jason stared at Dick’s face for a heart-stopping moment. The vigilante lay with his mouth slightly open, as if it had been frozen mid-gasp, and his eyes were wide and frantic- the blue irises darted back and forth across the room, but did not focus on anything or anyone- 

His breathing was also far too rapid- Jason pulled out the wireless pulse-ox meter (he had a feeling they’d need one without restrictions. He turned to retrieve Tim’s laptop and see if it said anything useful-

Where was Bruce?

“You’re not really here.” Jason whipped around at the sound of Dick’s voice. It was calm, but not Dick’s normal, easy-going calm. This was a forced calm, one that read caution and danger. Then there was also Dick’s posture- he was standing again, right next to the bed, his body was tense, but also standing as straight as possible, his chin held high. Jason noticed his hands were clasped behind his back, gripping the opposite arms. This was a salute. A soldier's salute that had been instilled into him.

Tim’s laptop came to life, a new and strange voice coming through the static. The device wasn’t playing around anymore; it no longer just twisted their words, it was creating people and voices from nothing. Jason groaned. At least they had been given some semblance of control; they could choose not to speak to limit the hallucinations. ‘Or are you not really here?’

Jason grabbed the laptop; he knew that face. On the screen was a man who stood a little shorter than Dick, with tan skin and a loose head covering that did little to hide the dark hair underneath. What struck Jason were his sharp hazel eyes that held a… almost fondness to them. Jason racked his brain for where he knew the face from, but his thinking was interrupted by Dick speaking, “No- I’m not- I can’t be back there- I got out-” 

The voice was shaky, as if trying to convince himself and the person he saw before him-

Jason turned as the door opened to reveal Bruce, “What’s going on?”

‘You abandoned the mission.’ Jason winced as Dick jolted and turned to face Bruce, his body tense but poised to react.

“Dick, whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real. It’s just the fear toxin.” Bruce held his hands up to convey a nonthreatening stance, but the gesture didn’t transfer well as the laptop spat back words of vile.

‘You failed. Though I suppose I expected too much of you.’ Jason sucked in a sharp breath, his vision tinting green at the false words.

 “Y-you stopped answering, B. What was I supposed to do? I thought- I thought you left me to-” He broke off and ran a hand through his hair, his hands shaking. Jason took a step towards him, watching as the heart monitor picked up pace as Dick’s stress increased. They needed to keep Dick relatively calm; there was still the looming danger of a heart attack.

Jason tried to take a deep breath as he whispered, “To die?” A lump forming in his throat- god, he did not want to deal with this-

They were supposed to have time, Jason thought with a spark of irritation at his family’s luck. Jason’s head was filled with all the revelations Dick had dropped on them- whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was Dick, his face twisted in pain, hand over his jaw where Jason had struck on that rooftop. They hadn’t even let him explain- not that Jason was sure he would have told them the truth, but Dick found them before revealing himself to Bruce- so maybe-

But then Bruce had convinced him to hide the true reasons behind Dick going undercover- and the fact that Bruce had beaten the decision into Dick- it was a lot. Not to mention Dick’s first reaction to the toxin, and all the questions that came from that- 

Jason forced a deep breath into his lungs. He couldn’t fall apart right now. Not when the person who normally held them all together was the one breaking- he could process later (hopefully with a couple of punching bags, maybe even Bruce’s face, under his fists). Right now, his older brother needed him.

With the small revelation aside, Jason allowed himself to come back to the present, but a strong ringing broke through his senses. The laptop. Jason watched as Dick started yelling, “No!” Over and over again. He stumbled into the main area of the cave. The screen Jason was holding flashed various images, and voices broke through the high-pitched ringing now and again-

Jason flung it to the side. Running after his brother. They could figure out the context later. Right now, Dick needed them. 

Dick was breathing irregularly, his hand tugging on his hair- no. As Jason got closer, he realized his brother hadn’t been messing with his hair, but was feeling his head- rubbing it in a specific spot-

The acrobat was muttering under his breath, eyes closed tight, as he dropped to his knees. Jason rushed to stop in front of him, also going to his knees, he cupped Dick’s face gently, “Dickie? It’s Jas- Jay. It’s Jay.” Jason’s heart spiked when Dick opened his eyes, leaning into the contact.

The spark of hope was quickly squandered when Dick muttered, “Tiger… Tiger. Make it stop.” Jason jerked away as if he’d been burned. Tiger. Jason knew that name. It was Agent One from Dick’s Spyral reports. Weren’t they partners at some point? And Dick had been able to escape the group with his help?

Jason stayed by Dick, but backed away even as Dick kept talking, well, pleading. “Tony-”

Bruce moved to stand in front of Dick as well. Dick tracked their father’s movements in a way that told Jason that he was aware of his presence. “There are easier ways, Tig- Agent One.”

Bruce moved closer, a look of worry and concern on his face, but Dick stepped back, causing the older man to falter in his approach.

He hesitated before taking another step. Bruce knew that this was his fault. As it always was when one of his children got hurt, but this… this was more than just the hazards of their lifestyle. This was pain and trauma. Pain that he had caused. He allowed Luthor to murder his son. He sent Dick on that mission. He kept the secret that Dick was alive.

Bruce was being forced to face some of his greatest failures in the face of his oldest. A face that choked out, “B,” The anguish and exhaustion were so clear in his voice, Bruce moved forward and reached for Dick’s hand before he could even think about it-

But Dick shoved him back, yelling, “Stop!” Then his voice dropped to a whisper, “You’re not even really here.” Dick’s eyes shifted to an unseen person behind Bruce-

Batman heard the monitor spike as Dick’s vitals became more unstable. “I’m so stupid.” The acrobat dragged his hands down his face in frustration, “I’m so fucking stupid.” Bruce’s eyebrows rose-

What was Dick seeing? Bruce reached for a sedative he’d grabbed from the medbay. If Dick’s heart rate continued to climb, they would have to knock him out before his heart gave out. Bruce winced internally at the thought; they had no way of knowing how the new toxin would react with the substance, but it was better than risking a cardiac event. “Dick.” He tried to keep his voice soft as he inched closer, “You’re in the cave. You're safe. You’re seeing things that aren’t real.”

To his surprise, Dick actually turned to face him, acknowledging his words, “Safe?” He laughed dryly, and a chill ran down Bruce’s spine. “Safe? I haven’t been safe in a long time, Bruce. Not from the Crime Syndicate. Not from Spyral, and definitely not from you.”

Cass sucked in a sharp breath from her hiding spot in the cave. She glanced over at Tim and Damian, who had joined her one by one to watch the tense scene before them. Cass heard a soft ringing in her ears as Bruce moved forward, needle in hand-

“I know. I know, chum. I’m sorry. I want to talk-” Cass was surprised by the raw heartbreak in Bruce’s voice, and judging by her brother’s face, they were too.

Dick spun to face Bruce, continuing his own conversation, “Haven't I given enough?!” The crack in his voice made Cass wince. Dick was always so steady, even when faced with the impossible, he always managed to smile and take care of the people around him. To watch such an important figure crumble... it reminded Cass that her big brother was just human. A painful fact she thinks they often forget.

“I have given everything I have to this god damn mission, Bruce!” Cass saw Jason tense even more, if it was even possible, and Damian looked from Dick to the heart monitor they could see through the medbay glass walls. Cass cursed under her breath. They were going to have to tackle Dick pretty soon just to keep his heart from exploding-

“No! You don’t get to lecture me about doing more. You have everything.” Dick fought against a sob, waving to the cave around them. “I died! I fucking died, B! Luthor killed me- a-and I know it was me or the world, and it was necessary- but god Bruce- I can barely eat without feeling like my heart is going to stop-” 

There were four audible gasps, three hands flying over their mouths, two steps taken forward, and one sword being unsheathed.

Cass trembled from behind her brothers, since they had both emerged from their hiding spot, shouting.

“Dick?! What the fuck does that mean?”

“Father, explain this!” Damian moved to stand between Father and Richard, but was held back by Drake’s hand on his shoulder. Damian scowled at him. If Richard was speaking the truth- and he had never lied to Damain before- then they needed to keep Richard away from father-

But if that were the case, should he not be kept from all of them? The people who were supposed to protect each other had not only failed, resulting in Richard’s death, but continued to fail him since. The hand that wasn’t holding the sword clenched in a tight fist. He had failed his Batman. Richard had died. Even if Damian wasn’t here to stop it, when he came back, he hadn’t even considered searching for Richard. Maybe he would have discovered Father’s secret- maybe he could have brought him home-

Damian felt a heat behind his eyes that he desperately tried to push down, but he welcomed the familiar tingle in his fingertips that clenched around the weapon. A feeling he usually got when he needed to fight.

Richard ran his hands through his hair, but the movement was shaky and erratic. Damian wasn’t even sure he had heard his and Drake’s shouting. “Then you went and had my fucking funeral! And I joined Spyral. I-I did that for you. Not for the mission. Not for the League. Not for Batman. For my dad.” The acrobat paused, his breath coming too fast. “You have everything. And you don’t even realize it. Jason is back in our lives, Tim is basically running WE for you, Cass has come so far, and-” 

Richard’s breath hitched, and Damian took an unconscious step towards him, “-Damian is alive- You have everything. They are here, Bruce, and you’re not even paying attention! They- they are more important than the mission.” 

Damian was aware of Cain moving around the room; he registered the beeping that momentarily got louder as someone entered the medbay, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Todd had moved to stand beside his brothers, a haunted look on his face-

Though Damian supposed all their faces matched in that aspect. Richard continued with his rant, the words making Damian’s heart sink deeper. “I lost that. I lost them. I lost myself, too. There’s a lot I left out of my reports. It wasn’t relevant to the mission. But I got out. I escaped. I- I nearly didn’t. A-and then-”

Richard moved to the side so that he could view everyone, seemingly registering the others' presence for the first time, “You all were so mad. So distant and cold. And you!” He pointed a finger at Father, though it shook. “You ordered me not to tell them. T-that it would tear us apart. But what about me, Bruce! What if it tore me apart?” Tears fell down his face, and his shoulders shook. “Some days the thought of seeing you all again is the only thing that reminds me who I am.”

Drake surged forward but was stopped when Father stuck out an arm to stop him. Drake grabbed the arm, prepared to shove it out of his way, but paused as Richard continued. “But none of it matters. This isn’t even real. And I’m going to wake up and still be stuck there.” 

He looked from Todd to Cain, and then to Drake. His gaze lingered on each of them. “You will all think I’m dead, and maybe it’s easier that way. You don’t have to grieve me twice.” The group stared at him in horror.

Richard moved forward, stepping around Bruce, and knelt in front of Damian. Damian stiffened, his gaze caught in Richard's sapphire blue eyes, which were lined with tears that he fought to control. “Even if this has all been a hallucination and you’re s-still dead-“ Damian sucked in a sharp breath. “Thank you. For seeing me. For being there.” Dick cupped his cheeks, wiping away the tears that Damian hadn’t realized were flowing. “I’m so proud of you, Dami. My Robin.”

Damian was tugged into a hug. It was familiar. Safe. Even if it was a little tighter than usual. Richard rested his head on top of Damian’s. Planting kisses in his hair, Damian could feel his warmth. He wrapped his arms around Dick tightly, fisting his hands in the back of his hoodie. “Richard-” He gasped. 

Richard was crying, too. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart.” He held Damian tighter. And Damian held back. His knuckles were turning white with his grip. He saw Father appear behind Richard. Damian shut his eyes tightly, turning his head into Richard’s neck.

Richard didn’t fight as the needle went into his skin; his words slurred as the drug did its work. “It’s okay. ‘Ts gon be… kay.”

Damian grunted as Richard slumped and his full weight fell on him. Father reached to help, but Damian sneered at him. “Don’t touch him.” The vile in his words was clear, and- much to Damian’s surprise- Father stepped back.

Jason and Cass cradled Dick’s head, lowering him to the ground. Cass placed his head in her lap. She was crying, silent tears falling down her face. She brushed his sweaty locks from his face and placed a kiss on his forehead, right above the device.

Everyone jerked back at the device beeped, once, then twice, and then flashed green. There were several clicking noises and then a collective gasp as the device detached from Dick’s forehead and fell to the ground with a clang.

For a moment, no one spoke or moved. There was an angry red line where the device had been attached to Dick, but his breathing was evening out, and his heart rate returned to normal.

Tim, who had remained frozen, seemed to find his voice, “I-Is it over?” Jason resisted the urge to wince at how small his younger brother sounded.

Jason looked up from where he knelt next to Dick’s unconscious form. He saw the slight tremble in Tim’s stance and how he was itching to move closer.

Jason looked from Bruce to Dick, anger rising in his chest at Bruce’s still form. He was- He was fucking Batman! He was supposed to do something- Instead, he was just standing there? Frozen by- guilt? Fear? Jason didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t care.

Jason shifted his gaze to Damian, who was kneeling next to Dick, a hand latched onto the elder’s wrist. Two fingers on his pulse point.

Looking at the youngest among them brought a new wave of green to Jason’s view. Damian had come so far from the murderous demon brat that he’d shown up as. Which was mostly thanks to Dick. Their older brother, whom they thought was- that was dead. Damian had lost two father figures and gained them both back in such a short amount of time- Jason didn’t want to think about the implications that had on a young mind, even someone who viewed emotions as a ‘waste of time and energy’.

If the roles were reversed- if Jason were lying unconscious on the floor of the Batcave and Dick was faced with holding this family together- Dick would probably say something inspiring, or drag them all upstairs for hot chocolate.

But Jason wasn’t Dick. And Jason certainly wasn’t as emotionally well-rounded as him. 

He stood slowly. Rising to his full size. Sometimes he forgot that he was just as tall as Bruce, taller if he wore a specific pair of boots. It was easy to feel small next to Batman. Next to the man who raised you. Until he didn’t. Until he failed.

‘No more dead Robins.’

Jason’s mantra played like a scratchy record in the back of his head. There was a ringing too. And he felt a cold numbness creep over his shoulders and down his arms and into his fists. He turned to Bruce. He heard Cass call his name, but the green was already in his eyes and in his veins and in his fists.

What was strange to Jason was the odd sense of clarity that was accompanying his rage. He was angry. He was furious. But he also needed answers. “So tell me, Bruce.” Jason took a step towards a man that he once considered the closest thing he ever had to a dad.

Bruce didn’t look at him. His gaze fixed on Dick’s form, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically at his sides. Calming strategies. Jason paused. It wasn’t often someone caught Batman in an emotionally vulnerable state. There were pellets of sweet dripping down his face, and his eyes were wide. Not unfocused, but too focused. Zeroed in on his oldest.

Jason felt his anger heighten, but also a wave of relief. Because Bruce should have known how all of this would affect Dick- should have known the toll these secrets could take- should have known that Dick would sacrifice his own sanity if it meant protecting the family- protecting Bruce-

But he didn’t. He didn’t see.

And maybe- maybe he would see now- and maybe Jason could give him some time to get it together, see if Bruce would apologize on his own-

But that was more Dick’s thing.

Jason wasn’t known for letting people off the hook, remember?

“Just- why, Bruce?” Jason clenched his fists tighter, hoping to hide how they shook.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t look at him. He opened his mouth and then closed it about three times.

The movement only angered Jason more. “WHY?!” Jason reached Bruce and shoved him backwards.

“Jason!” Cass and Tim called at the same time. Damian hadn’t even looked up.

Bruce let himself be shoved. He stumbled to stay standing. He didn’t look at Jason, but he was no longer looking at Dick either. He mumbled, “I failed him.”

Jason scoffed. “Not the first time, nor the last.” Bruce winced. Jason kept going, letting his vision darken, “Yeah, ya failed, B! Immensely! Exponentially! But what else is new?” He dropped his voice. “Didn’t you hear him? He hasn’t felt safe in a long time. How could he?” 

“How could he, Bruce? When his own father beat him into submission and sent him off to a war he shouldn’t have been a part of!” He shoved Bruce again, even harder, “Did you get what you needed from him? From your good little soldier? When you sent him off with no backup and no escape?”

Somewhere, Jason registered Cass stepping in front of him, both hands on his chest, stopping his approach. “Stop.” She said firmly, trying to walk him back. Away from Bruce.

Jason knew he was losing his grip, losing control on the green rage inside of him- “'Cause that’s all we are! Right, Batman?! Just pawns in your game of chess?! Huh? Answer me! Fucking answer!”

“Enough!” 

Jason stopped resisting Cass as a booming voice echoed around the cave, making all heads turn towards it.

Alfred stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was dressed as impeccably as always. His hands were grasped behind his back. And his usually impassive face was twisted in disappointment. Not his casual, pointed looks, real, true disappointment.

“Now. What is going to happen is this. Master Jason, if you will please carry Master Dick to his room. I believe he has been in this cave for far too long. Miss Cassandra, please take Masters Timothy and Damian upstairs to prepare for bed.” 

Cass nodded, but Tim took a step towards the butler, “But, Alfred-”

Alfred held up a hand, making Tim’s mouth snap shut. “Then we shall convene in Master Dick’s room for tea, where you all may decide where you will be sleeping.” There was a beat, then when everyone realized that Alfred was done, they moved into action.

Jason turned sharply around, giving Bruce one more look, before going to scoop up Dick’s still form. He kneeled to get a better angle, realizing that Damian had not let go. Jason paused, opening his mouth to say something, and then shutting it again.

Cass was there in an instant, a soft hand pulling Damian’s away gently. She held his hand and guided them up the stairs, Tim following close behind. Jason scooped Dick up, once again alarmed by how light his brother was. Dick had never been as bulky as him or Bruce, but his lean form had always been solid muscle formed from a lifetime spent soaring through the air.

Dick’s head rolled to rest on Jason’s shoulder, his deep breaths a comfort that he was still breathing against Jason’s neck. As he passed Alfred, Jason inclined his head to Bruce, “What about him?”

Alfred sighed, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he regarded Jason. “He is a man of many mistakes. But he is just that: a man.” There was a beat before Alfred moved towards Bruce, and Jason headed up the stairs.

If Jason lingered outside the entrance, and if Jason heard the absolute breakdown of the man he just screamed at, and if a few tears came to Jason while he lingered and looked down at his big brother, well, who was to say it happened at all?

. .

Dick woke in a slow, groggy way that he knew meant only one thing: drugs. He immediately felt the pulsing of a headache, which meant that he hadn’t been given the good drugs for pain relief, which also meant that he was probably somewhere he would rather not be. Bad guys tended to use more ‘sleepytime’ supplements on their victims rather than pain suppressants.

Which meant that as Dick’s senses came back to him, little by little, he remained perfectly still and kept his breathing even and deep. He felt the soft mattress beneath him, which was strange if he was in a hostile situation, but not the first time. He heard the familiar muddled sound of conversation from all around him, though his ears would not cooperate with him to make out the details of what they were saying, but the voices were familiar.

Actually, a lot of things were familiar. The texture of the comforter that lay on top of him- tucked around him- but not too tight. The smell of the laundry detergent and cleaners in the air. The voices. Voices he now recognized as his family members.

Dick shot straight up, gasping for air, hands grasping at the sheets desperately. The toxin- the fear- the secrets-

Tiger. The hallucination- Damian-

People were speaking all around him, voices coming from both sides of the bed- too close- too loud-

He tucked forward and rolled off the end of the bed in one fluid motion. He popped back up on the far side of the room, near the window-

He glanced at it, and then back at the group of people that had surrounded him- who were coming into focus once again. Jason stood closest to the door, a chair knocked over behind him, a book forgotten on the ground, which told Dick that he had been startled. Tim stood on the same side of the bed, but the way he favored his right told Dick that he’d fallen off the bed and probably landed on his ankle wrong; his left usually gave him problems in the morning-

Cass was on the right side of the bed, a towel wrapped around her wet hair- Dick had taught her how to do that, since it was harder with short hair- her clothes were fresh, an oversized Superman shirt Dick recognized as his own, and leggings- maybe she had dance today-

Dick tore his eyes away, his breath hitching as he landed on Damian. Damian, whose eyes were wide, still puffy from sleep and maybe some crying, as he sat up in Dick’s bed. Dick could see the imprint where Damian had been curled into his side- close but not touching-

The acrobat scrunched his nose in an effort to keep the tears at bay. He gave them what they wanted. He confronted his family. He yelled, he screamed, he cried, he passed. Right? What more could they want from him? What more did he have to give?

“Why-” Dick cleared his throat, his gaze meeting all of theirs for a moment. He lingered on Damian- god, they even made him look older. Dick pinpointed his longer torso, his sharper cheeks, and the green of his eyes was a little darker. Changes Dick would never get to really see. Because Damian wasn’t here. He was dead. He would never get to be older- he would never curl up in Dick’s bed again- he would never-

Dick tore his eyes away from Damian with no small amount of effort- reminding himself that none of them were here. He was at Spyral. Being tested- yet again- and he had to figure out the objective before he lost himself in the hallucination- again. “Why,” he forced his voice to be level, “am I here?”

Tim took a step forward, hesitant, but nonetheless trusting. “We thought you’d be more comfortable in a real bed, rather than a medical cot.”

Dick sighed, “I’m sick of the games, Minos. I don’t know what else you want from me!” Dick looked at the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I confronted my family about everything and ‘released the suppressed emotions’ you always say are slowing me down, or whatever, so can we please just end this?” Dick heard the level of desperation in his voice, but, frankly, he didn’t care.

Dick looked back up and was met with faces of varying degrees of distress and hurt-

“Dick?” Cass stepped closer to him, “We are real.” She said the words slowly and clearly.

Dick met her gaze and gave her a sad smile. “I wish you were, Cassie. More than anything.” He paused and then sat cross-legged on the ground. The more he engaged, the longer this would take. “There are a couple of things that give it away, for your notes, Minos. One, Bruce isn’t here. We all know how he hovers after a dose of fear toxin.” He gestured to the group as if they understood. Which they would. If they were real. “Two, Jason never stays the night at the manor. And three,” Dick looked up at Damian, who hadn’t moved, from his spot on the bed. “Damian’s dead. A memory you seemed keen on forcing me to relive over and over again a couple of months ago.” Dick said the last sentence through gritted teeth.

One by one, the group slumped onto the floor, dread overtaking their features and disappointment rolling off of them. Dick looked away, pretending to take in the room around him. “You did good with the room, though, and the cave was almost spot on. I guess you’re testing out the memory access.”

“Should we-?” Jason half-whispered to the group, waving his hand as if the motion explained his train of thought, or lack thereof.

Apparently, to Cass, it did, “Bruce? Yes.” She started to move towards the door, but froze.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal Bruce in the doorway. Dick tracked his movements easily, fighting the urge to tense under the gaze of his father. Bruce knelt in front of him, at an angle that Dick knew his back would regret later- or wouldn’t because he wasn’t real.

He held a manila folder in his hand. He placed it in Dick’s lap without saying a word. Dick shot him a raised eyebrow, running a hand over the top. Dick looked at the others, who looked just as confused as he was. He opened it.

Dick shot up. Stumbling backwards in his haste to get away- because that wasn’t possible-

He grabbed the fabric of the hoodie over his heart and balled his fist in it. He shut his eyes, tight. Maybe they wouldn’t see- maybe he could play it off- “No- that’s not- Minos can’t-” know about her- he’ll-

Bruce picked up the folder from the ground, running his hand over the picture that sat in the front, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Her name is Hadia. She’s almost two years old. Her name means-”

“Gift.” Dick whispered, looking at the picture as Bruce held it out. “T-to lead the way. To guide.”

Bruce nodded, “She is alive because of you. You carried her across that desert. You risked everything to save her.” He took a step forward and placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Hallucinations rely on what the person already knows. You didn’t know her name.”

Dick grabbed the picture of the almost-two-year-old from Bruce, unable to stop the tears from rolling down his face. “You could be lying.” He whispered, leaning against the wall at his back, exhaustion hitting him like a truck. He looked at the people centered around his bed. He looked at Damian, his heart fluttering with hope in his chest.

“I-I’m dating Kon.” Tim blurted out, taking a step forward. Dick’s eyes locked with his, his mouth falling open slightly. “So- erm- yeah. I’m bisexual.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “So.. I’m real. There’s something you didn’t know?” 

Dick can’t help but smile, stepping towards his little brother with his arms open. “I knew you were bi.” Dick chuckled as Tim crashed into him, “But I didn’t know you and Kon were official.”

Tim was crying, his arms clutching Dick tightly around his chest. He’d gotten taller, too. Dick realized with a spark of disappointment. He hadn’t even hugged his brothers since he got back. His hair was a little grown out, enough for Dick to run his hands through it as he cradled his brother.

Dick moved away first, but only because Cass tugged on his arm. He let Timmy go, turning towards his sister. “I-” she glanced away, trying to find the words. Dick waited. “I got Black Swan.”

Dick gasped and grabbed Cass’s shoulders with excitement, “Cass! Oh my gosh! That’s amazing! I know you’ve always wanted-” He froze, his throat tightening. “Shit, did I miss it?”

Cass smiled, seeing some of her brother’s light return, and she shook her head. “Next month.” Dick pulled her into a hug, lifting her off her feet slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Missed you.”

Tim had scooted back over to Jason and jabbed him in the side. The older of the two grunted, hip-checking Tim. “Uh, yeah, I’m pretty much the same.” He shrugged, Dick looked at him and smiled softly, Jason knew he meant it to say, ‘You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.’ Jason sighed. “Got my GED though.”

Dick beamed at him. “Yeah?”

Jason sighed, looking away from those bright blue eyes that shone with so much pride. “Yeah.”

Dick set Cass down and turned fully to the last person. Damian was standing at the foot of his bed now, his arms crossed, and he was pointedly staring at the floor.

Dick approached him and knelt in front of him. Neither said anything. Dick tilted his head, reaching up to cup Damian’s face.

The ex-assassin slapped his hand away. Refusing to meet his eyes. “Dami?” Dick asked softly.

Damian huffed, making him look like the child he was. It was almost enough to make him smile. “You thought I was not real.”

Dick winced. “I’m sorry. I- I thought you were d-” Dick cut himself off with a deep breath. “I’m sure it was confusing and scary-”

Dick saw the shove coming, but he planted his weight and took it. Damian met his gaze finally; green eyes filled with anger. But Dick could see the hurt underneath. The fear that he would never voice. “It should not have happened.”

The acrobat closed his eyes briefly, not wanting Damian to see how much that statement felt like a knife to his heart. He also did not point out how Damian ignored Dick’s statement about the feelings associated with everything. “I know. I’m so so-”

“It. Should not have. Happened.” Domain spoke through gritted teeth. He was no longer looking at Dick, but at Bruce.

Something swelled in Dick’s chest. Something dangerously close to satisfaction. Dick ignored it. He reached up again, and this time, Damian let Dick cup his cheek and pull them together, so their foreheads were touching. “You’re alive.” He said it like an answered prayer. Because it was.

Dick pressed a kiss to Damian’s temple. “You’re alive.” Then he did it again and again and again. Even as Damian flailed to get away (although only half-heartedly). He repeated the statement, drilling it into his head until it felt real.

. .

Dick sat in one of the cold metal chairs in the cave. They were in a circle. Each of the empty chairs taunted him for what he was about to do. His leg bounced against the concrete. He dragged a hand down his face.

Dick stood up suddenly, pacing between the chairs, before turning towards where his bike was parked. “Nope. Nope. Not doing it-” He stepped outside the circle of chairs before being jerked back down into a chair.

“I told you he would make a run for it!” Tim popped up beside Dick, his hands in the air to show his exasperation.

Jason, who still had a hand on the collar of Dick’s jacket, shook his head in disappointment. “Well, well, Dickhead. Caught in the act.” He clicked his tongue and plopped down in the chair next to Dick.

“I wasn’t-!” Dick started but was cut off by a knife appearing at his throat.

“Tsk.” Damian glared at him, “Do not lie to us, Richard.”

Dick flopped back in the chair dramatically, trusting Damian to remove the knife before it caused harm. “I can’t believe I agreed to this!”

He bent his head backwards and looked at the other half of the cave upside down. Bruce and Alfred were headed down the stairs. Before Dick could even begin to overthink, Cass appeared in front of his face, her head tilted at his upside-down face. “Didn’t agree.”

Dick straightened back up and faked shock, as if that face had escaped him. “You’re right, sister! I didn’t agree to crap!” He stood, only for Cass to push him back down.

The group exchanged more rounds of banter before all of them were finally seated in the circle. Dick resumed his tapping as it became clear what the next step entailed. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yo.” Jason tilted his head as he gained Dick’s attention. He was leaning back in the chair; his arms crossed over his chest. “Only what you want. And,” he gestured to the group, but mostly Damian, “We are sworn to nonlethal aggression for the next four hours.”

Dick snorted, rubbing his palms on his pants. He looked up, making eye contact with Bruce. The older man stiffened under his gaze. He moved his gaze to the bats above them.

“I- I don’t remember a lot about the bomb. But I remember being ready, if it was me or everyone else. Then there was no choice…”

Dick sat rigid in his chair. Reciting the events from the last year and a half of his life. Well, most of the events. He told them about his death. He told them about his fight with Bruce and his induction into Spyral. He told them about the training and the hallucinations. He told them about the missions. The lives he took. The baby in the desert. He told them about begging Bruce to come home-

By the end of it, Dick had a mug of hot chocolate pressed into his hands, and a Cass curled into his lap with her head tucked under his chin.

And maybe the circle of mystery chairs wasn’t the answer to all the issues in their family. But Dick looked around at their mismatched group and was able to breathe a little easier. Because he was home and it was real, and every single one of them was trying.

And that was something he could give.

He could give this. He could try.