Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The building was one of the highest Dick had ever climbed. He just wished he could enjoy the view.

Nighttime Gotham City was one of Dick’s favorite sights. Lights from cars, buildings, and neon signs lit up the sky, painting the outline of dark buildings with all colors of the rainbow. At least if you could see it through the usual downpour. Sometimes, it felt like all the tears ever spilled were collected in the clouds above Gotham, then poured onto the city below. When it wasn’t raining, most of the stars were clouded by light pollution. If you wanted to see them, then you’d have to climb up on a tall apartment building, and even then, you were lucky to find one dim speck. One constant was the wind. It ripped across the land from the bay. It would bite you through clothing and leave you shivering unless you had properly prepared with layers upon layers.

On this particular night, it was raining. Not the downpour that Dick generally tried to avoid, but a light mist that thoroughly soaked through his blue hoodie. The wind swirled around him, chilling his bones. It grabbed his hood and yanked it off, letting his hair whip wildly at its sudden freedom. Most nights he would replace it atop his head.

Not tonight.

He looked down at the air between him and the ground. It looked a long way down. The kind of drop that sent even his acrobatic heart into a panic. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. Wayne Tower was one thousand feet tall, according to Tim-

Dick closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip. On most nights, he would swallow the sorrow. Swallow the tears. After all, most nights he had three brothers who needed someone to be strong for them.

But not tonight. 

His face was stained from the tears that had already fallen and despite his best efforts, they started up again. The salt mixed with the rain, leaving a sour taste in his mouth as Dick let out another sob.

Something hard pressed against his head. Something small and round. Something cold as Gotham’s winds.

Dick took a deep breath and looked down, his heart still racing. Thoughts slowed to a jog, then stopped. He was out of time. 

His arms lifted up, with a mind of their own, spreading out into imaginary wings. Heart pounding in his chest, he swallowed the fear down.

One last flight.

He looked up at the sky. A break in the clouds revealed the full moon for a brief second, shining down onto his face before it disappeared forever.

Then he jumped.

Twelve-year-old Dick Grayson pulled his thin blue hood up around his head as he ducked out onto the streets. Although it was late June, every one of his brothers wore a thin jacket with a hood at all times. Sometimes they got strange looks, but Jason had insisted on it as a safety precaution. Dick hadn’t understood it at the time. At least, he hadn't until they had a run-in with the cops a month later. It hadn't been in the plan to participate in activities that could get him arrested.

Then again, his life had spiraled out of any “plan” a long time ago. 

He should have a happy family, swinging from the trapeze like a Flying Grayson. He should be traveling the world, making memories, and living a good life. But in all reality, life never turns out the way you expect it to.

For example, Dick had been planning to spend the day collecting tin cans and plastic water bottles to sell. Tim’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks (July 16th) and Dick wanted to give the kid something special- it was his first birthday in the system; the first without his father.

Then Damian had woken up before the sun and had run off- again. The entire morning consisted of Jason and Dick searching the city for their youngest “sibling", with Tim remaining at the house in the unlikely event that Damian returned of his own free will.

After three hours, Dick finally found the kid in an alley almost halfway across town, surrounded by his “adopted" army of pets. Most of them were alley cats (ten to be exact, each with their own name), but two stray dogs (Musky and Spot) were also present. 

Damian was sitting on a crate, two cats asleep on his lap. The others were purring at his feet, fighting for attention. He hadn’t noticed Dick yet as he spoke aloud, “-then Nightwing flew down from the light pole--perhaps he did not fly down, but he might as well have--doing a somersault in the air before landing on his feet, without a bit of a stumble. JayBird complained that he was a show-off like he does every time Wing does a trick and Crow started pestering him with questions about the circus- again. And I-”

“-wanted me to teach you, baby bird.” Dick teased with a smile.

All the animals bolted much to Damian’s displeasure. “You interrupted me! And do not call me a baby bird.”

“Aw, but you are the baby bird,” Dick grinned and tried to hug Damian, to which Damian ducked out of reach. 

Dick sighed, “All playfulness aside, you ran off again.” He plopped down next to Damian and tried to, again, sling his arm around him. The boy wiggled away.

 “This is Gotham City . Anything could happen to you. Anything. You could be abducted by aliens and no one would be the wiser.” Dick sighed, “I’m not asking for your exact coordinates. Just tell me when and the area-”

“Then you follow me. Or Drake. And on the rare occasion, Todd.” Damian folded his arms, clearly annoyed. “I have survived on my own before. I do not need you to babysit me!”

Dick pinched his nose and sighed. “Once, there was a man-”

“ Oh my gosh , are we really doing this?”

“-who lived in the forest with his family.”

“We are doing this.” Damian pulled his knees into his chest and groaned.

Dick ignored him. “It was a quarrelsome family and after having tried in vain to teach them through words, the man thought it better to learn through an example. So, he called his sons and told them to lay a bundle of sticks at his feet. Then he tied them into a bundle. He told the boys, one after the other, to pick up the bundle and break it. The sons all tried but in vain. Then untying the sticks, the man gave them to break one by one. They did this with the greatest ease. Then said the Father-”

“-As long as you remain united like these sticks then you are no match for all your enemies, but differ and separate, and you are undone.” Damian finished with a sigh. “I know, I know. You have told me that story over a hundred times.”

Dick chuckled, “Well, I’ll tell it a hundred more times until it finally gets into your head that we are in this together.” He stood up and held out a hand, “Speaking of which, we need to get back. I’m sure Tim is trying to jam the police scanners to keep them from finding you.”

Damian shook his head but allowed his eldest “brother” to help him up. “ Ttt . I’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

“That’s long enough. Come on, baby bird. ”

“I am not a baby!”

The apartment their foster parent owned was small. There was a small living area that consisted of a tiny kitchen and seating area, but the boys rarely saw it. Roman generally threw food into their room at meal times before retreating back to his television that was on twenty-four-seven. Dick couldn’t recall a time the muffled sounds of tv dramas and sport station talk fell silent. Roman slept on the couch. Correction: he lived on the couch, leaving only when he had to buy food. His job consisted of being a work-at-home salesman. His computer was on his lap from nine am to five pm, as he clicked and worked, half-watching, half-listening to game and reality tv shows.

Their ‘schooling’ was old textbooks Roman had bought off eBay (at one-point Roman had allowed them to attend the local public school, but after the first “parent-teacher” conferences, he pulled them out, claiming it was a waste of time and money).

Roman had one rule of the house: if no one was dying, then no bothering him. And honestly, none of the boys cared enough to break the rule. Damian had been with Roman the longest (since he was two- so about six years), with Jason the runner-up (four years, three months). Dick was right behind him (four years even) and Tim the newest addition to their little gang (just under a year).

The four shared a bedroom that had one window facing the alleyway. If Dick could count the number of times they climbed in and out of their little hideaway via the fire escape, then he would have been richer than Bruce Wayne. 

The room itself had two bunk beds pushed against the walls on separate sides of the room, leaving the window clear of clutter which made easy access to the window. Dick and Tim shared the one to the right; Jason and Damian to the left. Dick and Jason had claimed the top bunks, although Damian still complained about it. A small collection of clothes was piled up in the tiny closet in the corner. Mostly jeans and plain t-shirts. Under Tim’s bunk was a loose floorboard where they kept an emergency store of cash- about one hundred dollars.

Dick had insisted that the money was to be used in medical emergencies only, but Jason consistently snatched small bills and came back with a blanket or more food. He made sure to replace the money (through means that Dick suspected were not always honest) and usually did so before Dick noticed (which made him very frustrated).

When Damian crawled through the window, Jason smacked him on the back of his head. Tim settled for a quick hug, which Damian escaped from as soon as possible. “Can you quit doing that? Please?”

Dick jumped down from the window sill, choosing to ignore the open laptop on Tim’s bunk that was clearly attached to the radio antenna.

Damian hopped up on his bunk and smirked, “You have your hobbies and I have mine.”

“Running away and talking to alley cats is not a hobby.” Jason retorted back.

Damian raised an eyebrow, “It is less destructive than yours Mr. “ Breaking and Entering ”.

Jason stiffened, taking a defensive position. “I do not- ” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I like… testing locks. I don’t steal anything… usually.” He pointed at Tim, who was shutting his laptop quickly and quietly. “At least I don’t jam police scanners.”

Tim froze. “I- I- I- I don’t - I was hiding Damian! I have an excuse!”

“It’s still illegal.”

Tim shoved his computer under his pillow and the old antenna under his bed, clearly self-conscious.

Dick pinched his nose. Fate must have a strange sense of humor putting the four of them under the same roof. Then again, it's Gotham. The city isn't exactly known for its sense of humor.

(The Joker was not funny, no matter what he claimed.)

Damian had been enough excitement for Dick’s day so no way in Gotham was he putting up with a Tim and Jason argument. It was already two in the afternoon! Time to get on with the original plan: collecting plastic bottles and cans.

“I’m going out,” Dick informed everyone.

Damian immediately protested. “You can wander off by yourself, but I can't?”

Dick bit back a groan. His mind scrambled for a second before coming up with a solution. “You can come with me, Damian, if you’d like.” Dick could handle the kid (when he wasn’t running off) and Damian had always liked secrets. What better secret was there than a surprise birthday present?

“Where would we be going?”

“The park.” Plenty of cans in the trash that could be salvaged.

Damian rolled his eyes, “Come on, Wing. Why can't we go somewhere more exciting?”

Jason had to pipe up, “Kid's got a point. Maybe we could all go down to the wharf.”

Tim appeared interested in that, his posture perking up just a few inches.

Dick sighed in defeat. He would have to aim for another day. Again. At this rate, he’d need to talk to Jason, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Gotham only knew where that cash came from. 

But hey, a family outing might be just what they all needed right now. His parents had always told Dick that family time was the best time. “Alright, the wharf it is. Everyone coming?”

No one answered verbally but scattered to grab their various bags and supplies.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes.” Dick grabbed his own bag and slung it over his shoulder, already packed with some snacks he had smuggled out of Roman’s cupboard and a full old water bottle he dug out of a dumpster and had cleaned up.

Definitely not how he planned his day to go- but at least Jason wasn’t breaking into someone’s car.

Again.

Chapter Text

The wharf was not a place kids generally hung out. Then again, they were not “general” in any sense of the word. “General kids” got a kick out of playgrounds, ball games, hide and seek, and video games. 

Dick liked using old cranes as swings, and regularly jumped down to a lower platform, flipping or spinning in the air. Jason liked to climb up on the large storage containers and leap between them to test his speed and his endurance, or read a book (if he had one) near the waterfront. Tim enjoyed crawling around inside any machinery lying around and tried to figure out how it worked, especially if it looked like no one had touched it in years. And Damian tried to train the seagulls.

Dick was still trying to figure that last one out. “They’re birds, not dogs.”

“The concept cannot be that much different from dog training,” Damian replied evenly. “Reward them with food when they complete the task I want.”

Jason was standing behind the youngest and exchanged confused looks with his eldest brother. Tim ignored them, completely focused on the map in his hands. “I think we might have missed our turn”

“Two more streets, then right. After the donut shop, remember?” Dick corrected him gently.

Damian gave a soft, “ Tt ,” clearly exasperated. “Tim is trying to use a map in a city where we have all lived for at least four years and you are questioning me about training birds?”

“It is never a sin to be prepared,” Tim argued back.

“Prepared for what? Streets to move?” Jason shot back.

Tim wasn't fazed. “Jay Bird. We live in flippin’ Gotham City. Aliens could descend from the sky and no one would even raise an eyebrow.”

“He's got a point there,” Dick interceded.

“Superman is an alien,” Jason argued, unwilling to give ground. “Do you think him descending from the sky would be a bad thing?”

“There are more aliens out there than Superman,” Tim replied. “And they might not be as friendly.”

The argument ended as they arrived at their dock. As did their elation.

Jason cursed. “Stupid millionaire.”

“Billionaire.” Tim corrected.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Millionaire? Billionaire? Does it really matter?”

According to the large sign that hung on the high wire fence, the previously abandoned dock had a new owner: Wayne Enterprises. And right under the lovely brand read, “Authorized Personnel Only.”

Dick kicked a nearby rock and sent it flying. It hit the sign with a small ping . “Well, who’s up for donuts?” There was a shop just behind them, and four glazed donuts were cheap enough

Jason rolled his eyes then grabbed the fence with his hands, looking upward. Dick grabbed Jason’s wrist, his own eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…” Jason looked through the chain-link then back at Dick. “Climbing the fence. What else?”

“That’s trespassing,” Tim noted. “That’s illegal.”

Jason gave him this look. It clearly said something along the lines of “You’re kidding right? ” Then he turned back to the fence and hoisted himself up, scaling it without much difficulty. Damian followed close behind.

Dick rolled his eyes, “I would like to go on record saying you are a bad influence, Jay Bird.”

“Noted. And you don’t normally care about trespassing.”

Dick pointed at the sign, “Well, this used to not have a sign. Now it does. So that probably means it isn’t going to be abandoned much longer, if at all.”

Jason smirked, “ Chicken?”

“No!”

“Then come on!”

Tim looked around carefully before tossing his messenger bag over to Jason, who was already waiting to catch it, then slowly climbed up with a little help from Dick. And Dick… well he just flipped up on a box, then flipped over the top of the fence and landed on the other side.

“Show off,” was the only comment from Jason before the boys split to their various positions. Dick on the cranes, Jason on the docks, Tim under the cranes, and Damian with the birds.

Definitely not normal kids.

Several hours, a stone skipping contest, and a few rounds of hide and seek later, the sun started to finally lower over the horizon.

The boys were on the last round of hide and seek for the night (Dick warned Jason not to break into anything. Jason didn’t listen, as usual). Dick ended up climbing under the dock. He stayed there until Damian was yelling at the top of his lungs about if Dick didn’t come out right now he’d jump off the pier- which would be very bad since the kid couldn’t swim. The young acrobat flipped up to a waiting group of Birds who all looked annoyed. He unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile.

“Wing,” Tim started but Jason beat him to it.

“No more hiding under there. Seriously, we can’t get to you without getting wet. And that's just cheating.

“Sorry.” Dick rubbed the back of his neck but was still grinning. “Come on, it’s getting dark. We should start heading back.” They all knew that when the shadows were long and the light was getting dim, that was when the crazies came out to play.

“Can we stay a little longer, please?” Damien pleaded, “It’s not like Roman will notice, or even care, that we’re gone.”

“He’s got a point.” Tim chirped. “And I think I almost got that old crane working.”

Jason slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards the fence. “No.”

Dick had grown grateful for Jason’s time spent basically living on the streets for only one reason. It made him adamant that, if he could help it, Tim and Damian were not on the streets after dark.

Dick followed Jason and motioned for the other two to follow. “Come on, the night guard should be coming soon anyway and we need to leave. I’m not paying for that toolshed handle Jay Bird broke.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Wing!” Jason called over his shoulder, “At least I didn’t break into the “office” building!”

Damien grumbled something about things being more fun when he was alone as he packed up his little bits of bread and picked up his drawstring backpack. Tim threw his computer in his bag without a sound of protest.

Now, most crimes in Gotham happened at night- which drove Tim insane. He had repeatedly given lectures to the Birds about if criminals would work in the day then Batman would have a lower probability of sneaking up on them or even showing up (unless it was a major criminal like the Joker). Dick had learned over the past year that when Tim went into lecture mode it was best to just half-listen or just tune him out completely. Tim would eventually figure out no one was paying attention and stop, but Dick appreciated when the kid came out of his timid shell. Heaven knew he should speak up more.

So, when an armored truck decided to come to the ‘new’ Wayne dock at dusk by ramming through the locked gates, Dick prayed Tim hadn’t posted his lecture online.

There was no time to ask about that now. Dick grabbed Damian and Tim by the wrists and yanked them out of the path of destruction, the three of them tumbling to the ground. Jason rolled in the opposite direction, before coming to a crouched position. He slung his backpack off one shoulder and zipped it open, pulling out an old steel pipe as the passenger door opened and a tall man with blonde hair came out, holding a gun.

Dick dragged Tim and Damian to their feet and shoved them behind him. Damian went to protest about his treatment but was cut off by Tim elbowing him in the ribs. “It’s the Penguin. Shut up.”

Dick felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the words. They rose even higher when the truck opened up and out climbed three more armed men and, sure enough, The Penguin.

Oswald Cobblepot was a little confused when he saw the four kids in jackets. His informant had told him Wayne had only owned the dock for a few days and no movement had been made to repair or restore it. It was fenced off with only nightly checks for any additional damage that might have been done in the day. Security cameras hadn’t even been properly installed and that made it perfect for an early weapons deal. No one should be here for at least an hour or two.

He shrugged. It shouldn’t be a large problem. Just hold the kids until the deal was done. No one likes a tattletale. He motioned for two of his men to grab them.

Penguin was not prepared for what happened next. 

One of his men turned towards the single kid in the red hood and pointed his gun. “Don't even think about it, kid!” He moved forward to take the pipe.

Red didn’t try and run. Heck, he didn’t even flinch. He just tightened his grip on the pipe and swung. Hard.

The gun clattered to the ground and the goon yelped in pain. Red swung again without hesitation, this time making physical contact with the man’s legs and knocking him to his knees. Another hit to the head and suddenly Penguin had an unconscious henchman.

The other guard had slightly better luck. Slightly. Blue jacket was standing protectively in front of gray and black. Blue yelled, “Crow, take Robin and go!” then leaped forward in a front handspring and kicked the other man in the face. Black hoodie grabbed the wrist of gray and dragged him deeper into the dock, much to Gray's clear displeasure based on his loud complaints. Something about not being a baby and taking care of himself.

Penguin's man lurched back from Blue’s kick and tried to recover, only for Blue to kick the gun out of his hand, knock his legs out, flip over him to avoid the sloppy attempted punch, then kick the backside of his head.

Correction: Penguin now had two unconscious guards.

Uh…. Cobblepot wasn’t sure what to do for a second. Yes, he was a criminal. Yes, he was used to strange things happening (fighting a man in a Batsuit had stopped being weird after the first year). But two kids no more than thirteen knocking two of his thugs out was not something he had been expecting. Ever .

‘Crow’ and ‘Robin’ had fled the scene and were now probably hiding among the storage containers. Or getting the coppers… Blue and Red were now together standing in between Penguin's goons and their two fled accomplices. Red was holding his weapon at the ready and Blue was tense and ready to pounce.

The other crooks finally recovered from their shock and had their guns trained on the two boys as Penguin debated what to do. He could shoot them, obviously. But did he really want blood on his hands right now, especially two children? No, his current client was paying quite a bit of money and murder would get the Bat’s attention (especially if it was kids). 

Blue suddenly spoke up, cutting Penguin's thoughts off. “A pipe? Seriously, JayBird? You carry a pipe in your bag?”

Red, now dubbed ‘JayBird’, flicked his head at blue, “Would you rather I carry a knife, Nightwing? Or a gun? ”

“I was just asking, no need to get all wound up.”

Penguin raised an eyebrow. ‘Nightwing?’ ‘JayBird?’ Who would name their kids that?

He shook his head. Now was not the time. He couldn’t kill them. But they could be nice insurance in case the Bat decided to show. “Take ‘em boys. Alive . And maybe don't get beat up by some kids this time!”

Nightwing and JayBird tensed, ready to put up a fight against the four remaining goons that were closing in. They shuffled their positions a bit, JayBird finding himself against the big boy and two guns. Wing wasn’t much better, facing two guns and a knife from the guy on his left. Wing backed up a step, bumping into JayBird. Jay pressed an elbow into Wing’s ribs as if letting him know he wasn’t alone.

The old crane above suddenly whirled to life. It creaked and groaned, breaking through at least twenty years of rust and dust. Everyone looked up to watch in fascination as it swung around and then dropped directly onto the armored vehicle. The four-ton weight crushed the back cab and, Penguin realized a second too late, the merchandise.

A small gray blur suddenly dropped out of the sky onto one of his men. Penguin had time to identify the blur as the aforementioned ‘Robin’ before the kid wrapped his arms and legs around his man’s neck and face, attempting to cut his air off.

Nightwing and Jay Bird didn’t wait for another second as they sprung forward engaging with the other three goons. Nightwing lunged at one man, knocking both to the ground. JayBird charged at the big boy, pipe swinging.

Penguin felt his blood boil. His guns and other weapons had just been destroyed by some little kids! This deal had gone south before it had even begun. He drew his umbrella and shrieked, “Shoot them!” To heck with Batman and to heck with caution. These kids had just lost him a small fortune and they were going to pay for it, dang it!

Robin struggled to keep his grip and was finally thrown to the ground when the Thug slammed his gun into the boy’s face. He landed with a large ‘ thud ’. His previous captor now turned their gun on him, his face red from anger. “Why you little- !”

“ROBIN!” Nightwing screamed from the ground. He tried to jump up, but his opponent grabbed his ankle and yanked him back to the ground. Robin scrambled backward on his hands and feet, trying to put distance between himself and the bullet.

It never hit flesh as someone else dropped down from the sky. Pure black spread out in front of the downed child and the goon recognized the shape one second too late. Batman swung around and knocked the weapon out of his hand, then landed a perfect right hook on said man's cheek. The shooter reeled back and didn’t even have a chance to regain his balance as a swift sharp kick to his leg made a bone snap. He screamed and fell to the ground, clearly down for the rest of the fight.

Which really wasn’t much of a fight. The Bat was a storm of fury as he swept through the remaining three guards without taking a single blow. Two were knocked out in a matter of seconds with the last surrendering without a shot.

All the while, the three boys watched; frozen in place with a mix of fascination and awe.

When Batman finished with the last goon he bit back a curse. Penguin was nowhere in sight. Most likely he had run off at the sight of the suit with the realization that attacking children was not the smartest decision.

And Batman would be sure to remind Cobblepot of that the next time he saw him.

The Bat began to drag over and cuff all six goons to the fender of the crushed truck. It was an old task he had done hundreds of times before which allowed him to turn his attention to the kids. All of them were wearing thin jackets, which he found a bit odd for late June. Even stranger, the hoods were raised, shading the children’s faces and making it a bit harder to identify any prominent features. Their clothing wasn’t new but did not appear overly patchy either. Blue and Red had black backpacks and the previously identified Robin had a black drawstring bag.

His first thought was the kids may be working for a rival of the Penguin. Maybe Two-Face or Black Mask. But if that was the case, then they should have run off at the sight of Batman. Or just run off when they were spotted. Children were not exactly known for being soldiers. Spies and informants, yes. Actual fighting? No.

Robin was still on the ground where he had fallen, trying to shake the one in blue off of him. “I am fine, Wing! It is a scratch! There is barely any blood!”

“Let me see, baby bird-”

“Do not call me that! I am not a baby!”

Blue chuckled, “Are you sure? Because you sometimes act like it. Let me just see-”

If they were informants, they cared quite a bit about one another. Even if they are children, Batman would expect them to only care about their own reward. Not about their “rivals”.

Red jacket grabbed Wing’s shoulder and pulled him back, “He’s fine.” He held out his hand and helped Robin to his feet. “Congrats, Robin, you just got your first battle scar.”

The gray hood moved from right to left as “Robin’s” head shook in a negative gesture, “It wasn’t that deep, Jay. It won’t scar!”

“Not if you don’t scratch at it.” Jay’s voice was smug and Batman suspected the boy was smirking.

Wing elbowed Jay, “Don’t encourage him.” Wing turned to Robin and folded his arms, now all business. “I told you to run with Crow. Why didn’t you listen?”

Crow? Batman frowned at the name. Surely they didn’t mean Scarecrow? No child should interact with that man. Ever.

“We weren’t just going to leave you!” Robin protested.

“You could have been killed!”

“I wasn’t!”

Batman finished cuffing the last criminal and finally stood up straight effectively cutting off any snide remark. He approached the three of them before crouching down to be at eye level with Robin. “Are you alright?” The change of eye level would help relax the three of them. No one liked to be towered over. It would also help Batman note any features for the nightly report. Especially his mask cam.

Batman could now partially see Robin’s face, although the shadows still hid or blurred defining traits. The boy looked of middle eastern descent, but his accent was definitely Gotham- albeit not as heavy as Jay's. If he had to give a description, Robin's accent sounded more proper and less street. Like he was trying to sound higher class than his actual station. Meanwhile, Jay had the heavy tones and pronunciations of the Crime Alley area. Wing was the only one who sounded from “out-of-town”, the Gotham tone lightly sprinkled in a few words. Instead, an accent Batman couldn’t quite place ruled dominant in the boy’s speech patterns. Wing had a protective grip on Robin’s shoulder, his body stiff and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. His complexion was darker than Jay’s, but not quite Robin’s color. All three had dark hair, either brown or black. It was hard to tell with the hoods.

Robin had his mouth hanging open, clearly in shock that Batman was talking to him. The Bat, Dark Knight, protector of Gotham.

Nightwing elbowed Robin gently, effectively snapping him out of his shock. Robin bowed slightly at the waist and bobbed his head, “Yes, Batman, sir. Thanks to you.”

“Yeah,” Jay shoved his hands into his pockets. His tone was uneasy and he clearly did not want to be there. “What he said.”

Batman nodded in return to both. “What were you three doing out here?”

Wing began to bounce his fists against his sides, nervously. Batman raised an eyebrow and Wing tried to respond, the words coming out in a stammer. “Uh… well… We-”

“We were trespassing,” a voice said from behind, “And there are four of us.”

Batman whirled around to find yet another child, only slightly taller than Robin, wearing a black jacket and a red messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His accent was also Gotham, but was surprisingly more “high-class”. The kid sounded like he should be in prep school, not on the wharf after hours. 

The other three boys sprinted around the Bat. Wing practically tackled the boy to the ground with a hug. Batman could see the large grin on his face as Black hugged him back. 

Wing pulled back and lightly punched the kid’s shoulder, “I’m going to assume that was you with the crane.”

Robin nodded, “You should have seen him, Wing! Crow just pulled off the panel and crossed a few wires and then ‘bam !’”

Ah. So this was “Crow”. Batman felt a bit of relief at that realization. 

Jay nodded at the younger boy, his expression stoic, but there must have been some clue of approval or something because Crow looked away, clearly embarrassed. Then he looked up at Batman. “Thank you for saving Robin, Mr. Batman.”

Crow was not like the others. He looked directly at where Batman’s eyes would be (if the mask was not covering them) and did not appear frightened by his presence. His response of “trespassing” had been delivered with such a blunt tone, Batman found no reason to doubt him. And his thanks had been similar in genuinity, unlike Jay’s who gave it with caution.

Batman nodded politely, to Crow. He made a mental note to get the security on this dock upgraded and post someday guards until construction began. And probably after it began. The last thing he needed on his conscience was the accidental deaths of four children due to trespassing. From criminals or civilians. Speaking of criminals…

 “Do any of you know what Penguin was doing here?” Batman asked as gently as he could. “Did he say anything about who he was to meet here or what was stored in the truck?” He could always look in the crushed truck, but it would take time to pry the crane off the crushed metal and who knew the extent of damage on the inside.

One by one, they all shook their heads. Batman heard the sounds of sirens approaching in the distance and turned to check that none of the criminals had gotten loose (it had happened only twice before, but better safe than sorry). Commissioner Gordon was on time, as usual, and would have the proper vehicles for transporting the six to the station. Finding them secure he began to turn back to the boys. “When the police get here, they will need to take a state-'' he stopped speaking when he found the previous spot they had occupied, empty.

Huh. So that's how it felt to be on the other side of the vanishing act.

Batman looked up just in time to see Crow drop to the other side of the fence and the four boys run across the street. He went to follow, but then the squad cars pulled up and blocked the kids from view. By the time he got around, they had vanished.

Gordon got out of his car and followed Batman’s gaze down the street. “Did you miss some? Do we need a patrol to chase?”

“...No. It was nothing.” Batman turned back around and walked with the Commissioner back to the crime scene, leaving the four Birds to themselves.

“I am sorry, sir, but,” Alfred looked through his rearview mirror at the man in the back seat. “Four boys took on six of Penguin's men?”

Bruce Wayne nodded, “Knocked out two of them before I even arrived.” He looked back down at his tablet, which was displaying the daily news of Gotham. Veronica Vreeland’s charity ball next month was the main point of interest as Alfred had insisted he make a public appearance. “She is your friend and she expressed a strong desire for you to attend.”

“My goodness, sir.” Alfred shook his head, “What on earth were they thinking?”

Bruce laid the tablet and article aside, turning his attention to the passing landscape. “I managed to find one of the old cameras working. It confirmed their trespassing story. They were on the property several hours before Penguin arrived with his men. It was just a situation of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He paused and allowed a small smile, “One of them managed to start up one of the old cranes and dropped it on the armored truck. Any guns that were not damaged were pinned in between the roof and ground.” The smile faded, “That was when Penguin ordered his men to fire.”

“Thank the heavens above you arrived. Who were they, Master Bruce?” Alfred pulled into the mansion driveway, got out of the car, walked around, and opened the back door.

Bruce politely thanked him before answering the question, “To be honest, I’m not sure. They called one another names; Robin, Crow, Jay, and Nightwing. I highly doubt those are their given names. Perhaps they play superheroes together and those are their codenames.” He smiled. “Much more creative than ‘Batboy’ or ‘Batkid’. You have to appreciate that.” 

The two entered the empty mansion together. Alfred took their coats and hung them up in the coat closet. “Well, Master Bruce. Sounds like quite an adventure. One, which I hope, will not be repeated?” He cocked his head to the side, the silent question.

Bruce chuckled, “Already looking into public school records in an attempt to find their families. I’m sure they were in a hurry to get home and had no desire to be picked up at the police station by their parents. When I find them, I will inform their parents.”

“Very good, sir,” Alfred nodded. And thus the subject was dropped. After all, the night was fast approaching. It was time for Bruce to start his “other job”.

Chapter Text

Damian woke up in cold sweat around three in the morning without a sound. His breathing didn’t change from the deep sleep pattern and he didn’t sit up straight in fright. The only thing that would even indicate his fear was his eyes flying open. He stared at the wall, back turned to the world. Even if Drake had been up (which he was not for once in his life), he would not have known Damian was up unless Damian chose to reveal it.

When he was younger, Damian had nightmares quite frequently. He had always reacted in the same way. Silent, with little to no movement. He had thought that was normal. Then the others came along. Only two days after his arrival, Todd sat up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath. The sounds were soft, but they still caused Damian to leap out of bed, ready to punch anything that moved. When Grayson arrived, the young acrobat woke up screaming the first night.

That was when Damian realized his "way" was not normal.

Grayson comforted Todd and later Drake when they had their frequent nightmares. That “comforting” was either rubbing their back, humming an old Romani lullaby, or just whispering a story quietly (As for Grayson’s nightmares, the brother had his own way of coping. Ways that caused frequent whispered arguments on the fire escape between Todd and Grayson). Damian had been awake for every single one of those comfort sessions.

Damian woke up every time someone snuck out of or into the apartment. Or just whenever someone else was awake. He knew what every single one of his brothers sounded like when they left and when they returned. He knew who was lying awake in the dark, too afraid to go back to bed. He knew who had been gone all night and pretended not to notice the bags under their eyes. He attributed all this knowledge to being a light sleeper. Why else would he jump at the slightest of sounds?

Sometimes, Damian was tempted to tell Grayson about his nightmares too. He never acted on such desires. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of them or anything- all of them had nightmares! But his… his were different. They were… fuzzy, out of focus. He would often forget the dream when he woke up, left only with a strange empty feeling in his chest.

He knew only three things for sure.

1. Someone was yelling at him. It was not always the same person but he was pretty sure one of them was a woman.
2. There was always pain. It varied in where and how much, but it was always present.
3. An image of red sprayed out on snow was very prevalent and he hated it.

But these points never connected and Damian was just left with… nonsense. How do you explain nonsense to the only three people in your life who all dream about their parents’ various deaths? No, their time was best spent elsewhere.

(There was another reason; one Damian couldn’t quite verbalize and chose to ignore. He felt like if he made a sound, even just a single sound of weakness, something bad would happen. This was, of course, preposterous. Grayson had never hurt him before, neither had Todd or Drake (unless you count teasing or the occasional wrestle) so he didn’t quite understand the instinct. But he had no plans to ever break it.)

The only question is, how does one deal with nightmares alone? Sometimes Damian would just lay there and think about one of Grayson’s ridiculous stories, or Todd’s dangerous stunts. Other times he would sit up and wrap himself in his blanket, then watch Drake and Grayson sleep, his mind blank as a slate.

But on most nights, and on this particular one, he did one thing. He ran.

Damian quietly folded back his sheets, slung his backpack over his shoulder, then climbed out the window without making a single wood plank creak. He had memorized the layout of the squeaky boards on his first week here- his second year with Roman and only a few months before Todd arrived. The fire escape was also memorized, although much more difficult. Damian generally slid down one of the side poles like a fireman. The ground was a little bit of a drop, but heights had never frightened him.

He always checked the window and surrounding area before he sprinted off. Away from his nightmares, away from his brothers, away from his prison. There was never a destination in mind, but Damian would remember the way home as he cataloged each turn and landmark in his mind. Notes of where to turn and which street he took became a list of directions that had never steered him wrong. Damian could never remember getting lost in Gotham, despite its size.

He ran down the street, knowing when to duck behind a dumpster or into one of the convenience stores. He knew how to hide, jump up onto fire escapes, climb into sewer grates, crawl under cars, and simply duck out of sight. The gray hoodie was easy to hide within the shadows, although black would have been preferred. But Grayson had offered that color to Drake since crows were black.

Damian sprinted, leaped, ducked, and basically flew across the streets for the next hour, only pausing twice at public water fountains for a drink. He didn’t stop until he was several miles from home at one of his more distant “outposts”. There was only an old Tomcat that was a frequent visitor, but Damian enjoyed his company all the same. On this particular night, old Tom appeared to be out on one of his rare hunting travels, which left Damian to sit alone on an empty crate to catch his breath.

Deep breath in, deep breath out…

As his lungs slowly stopped burning, his senses branched out to the few cars driving around at night, the noise from a nearby casino, and of course, the distant sirens. His thoughts turned inward.

It had been about a week since their run-in with Batman. That little dance with death had sent Damian’s long faded nightmares into a frenzy. He had been unable to get a full night’s sleep since the incident and the past three days had been hours of just lying awake.

In silence. Which translates to very dull and very boring.

The previous four days had consisted of the others having their own nightmares resurge (to literally no one’s surprise). Death was not an unfamiliar concept to any of them… at least for the other three. Damian had no idea how familiar he was to it. The drawbacks to being abandoned on the steps of a church, he supposed. His parents could be dead. Maybe only one was dead and the other hadn’t wanted him. Or they could have been unable to raise him and decided to hope for adoption.

If that was the case, maybe they shouldn’t have picked Star City as a place to drop off their kid. Roman was a joke of a foster parent and had never given Damian the illusion of adoption to cling to. Two years later, Roman had packed up a tiny car and moved to Gotham-- and somehow, Damian had gone with him. Gotham hadn’t been much of a change from Star City, despite being on the opposite side of the country. But Damian had found he liked Gotham better, especially with the addition of the fire escape in their new apartment. Cats really liked to climb on them and Damian only had to open a window and offer food to make a friend.

Of course, a few months later, Todd had come along and had not appreciated the cats. He was followed shortly by Grayson. Now Damian’s cat and dog interactions were mainly on the streets during his many running offs.

Damian wasn’t sure how long he sat there, feeling the night around him. It might have been only a few minutes, but he suspected it was hours. However long it was, it had been long enough to detect an irregularity.

Someone was watching him. He could feel their eyes on him, hear their breathing, although it was disguised well. Damian fingered the pocket knife in his front jacket pocket but made no move to draw it. At least, not yet. There was a shift in the stalker’s position, which allowed Damian to find the basic direction it came from. Behind him, or more specifically, above him, probably on the building. And that particular swishing noise came from only one thing Damian had heard.

It was the same swishing that had been haunting his dreams the past week, along with the sound of a bullet slamming into it.

“I know you are there.” Damian opened his eyes and stood to his feet, but did not turn around. “You do not have to hide.”

Batman seemed to materialize from the shadows from above as he dropped down next to the youngest bird. “Robin,” he greeted politely.

Damian nodded, “Batman.”

“I’m impressed you knew I was here.”

Damian shrugged, “I heard you.”

Batman might have raised an eyebrow under his cowl, but Damian wasn’t positive. “You heard me?”

“Yes.” Damian sat back down on his box. 

Batman looked as though he wanted to say more, but chose not to. “What are you doing out here so late?”

“It is morning.” Damian pointed at the now pink-tinted sky and did a quick light to time calculation. “About four. And I could ask you the same thing.”

Batman might have smiled, but it was so quick Damian decided it was more likely a trick of the light. “I am the night.”

Damian scoffed, “Seriously?”

“It’s my best time.”

“Ttt.” Damian kicked a metal can at his feet and sent it tumbling across to the alley wall.

They sat in silence for a moment before Batman asked again. “What are you doing out here? I am sure your family will be worried when they find you gone this morning.”

“Why would they be worried?” Damian scoffed.

Batman paused for a moment. He appeared to think for a moment before asking, his tone much more cautious. “Do they know you’re out?”

“No,” Damian replied. 

Batman cocked his head to the side. “Robin… do you live in a bad home?”

Well, that was a loaded question. “Perhaps I should explain better,” Damian shoved his hands in his pockets. “No, they do not know that I am out. But, in about an hour, they will wake up. Then they shall spend the first part of the day looking for me.” Damian stated it as a fact, but couldn’t quite keep the satisfaction of that situation out of his voice.

Batman appeared to pick up on it and now appeared a little confused. “And… that is a good thing?”

Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “If I lived in a bad home, would they look for me?”

“... Yes.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Why would they do that? If they do not want the child, then why would they look for them?”

“To keep the law out of their business,” Batman replied. “A runaway child can indicate mistreatment in some cases. So are you running away?”

Damian blinked. “... Ttt. My brothers would never let me.”

“Then why run?” Batman asked.

Damian frowned. “Because.”

“.... That didn’t answer my question.”

“Get used to disappointments.” Damian retorted, his voice bitter. He remembered hearing that line in a movie Drake had bootlegged a few months back and he had rather liked the saying. It summed up his life perfectly.

Disappointing parents (he assumed), disappointing foster home, and just his life in general. And one day, he’d be left behind by disappointing “brothers”. After all, why would they stick around for an orphaned nobody when no one else did?

“Do you run often?”

“Why do you care?” Damian snapped. “You don’t even know me!” He leaned back on the wall, “Don’t worry, they’ll find me by noon. Unless they decide not to look for me.”

“Have they ever done that?”

“Not yet.” Damian’s voice had a nervous ring, despite his efforts to keep it calm. He really needed to work on his flat voice.

“Maybe I should take you to a police--”

“I. Am . Fine .”

Batman didn’t respond for a moment. He reached into his belt and held out to the boy a small, cylinder device. “If you run into any trouble, activate this beacon and I’ll come.”

Damian stared at the device but made no effort to take it. “I do not need your charity.”

“It isn’t-”

“I’m not taking it.” Damian interrupted. He motioned in the direction of sirens that just started up again in the distance, “And do you not have other places to be?”

Batman didn’t move for a moment, then slipped the cylinder back into his belt. “Be safe, Robin.”

“Oh sweet Gotham, just GO!”

Without responding the Bat turned away and melted into the shadows. Damian sat on his crate until the sun rose, then began to walk back in the general direction of Roman’s.

Todd found him almost two hours later and promptly yelled at him, claiming this was the last time he’d come and look for him and he meant it. He had said something similar last week if Damian was remembering correctly, but he chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he silently took the lecture from Todd, and later Grayson. Drake would simply request of him to not do it again and Damian would simply shrug with no comment. 

One day they would disappoint him. They’d wake up and find his empty bed and decide he was not worth the effort. One day they would give up on him and leave him to the streets. One day, Damian would become like his alley cats, hungry and cold at all times. It would happen, one day. He would find out instantly. Best to rip the pain off like a band-aid. Figure out you are the problem, then move on. That was the plan.

He just was not sure why it had not happened yet.

And he was not so sure how he would react to it this time around.

Chapter Text

Bruce was starting to worry about his little “Birds” from a few weeks back. Normally, finding someone in Gotham City for the Batman was as easy as snapping his fingers. But these four kids were being particularly difficult.

His first thought had been they must all be friends from elementary school, hence the multiple accents and the younger ages. It had been a late June evening with school only having just been released for the summer a few days previously. But the schools in the nearby area of the wharf had no students who matched the four’s description. At least, he did not think they did. His camera in his mask had allowed Bruce to get better lighting on the four boys, which had allowed a much easier time narrowing down results. But the shots were still not exact and there had been a few boys who looked similar , but none of them had been in the same school together.

His next thought was adjacent school districts. The same issues had arisen. He had started to look at the school districts further into town. The boys could have taken a bus, after all.

And then a week or so after this particular development, he found a new theory. One that was much more frightening than a few misbehaving children.

Batman had been on patrol on practically the other side of town from the wharf when he spotted the gray little figure in the alleyway. Sure enough, it was Robin who had somehow picked up on his presence, several stories above him. And even more concerning was the boy’s situation. Several alarms had gone off in Bruce’s mind from child abuse to slavery. Part of him had wanted to grab the kid right there and drag him to the police station.

But Robin had not appeared injured nor frightened at the idea of being found by his “brothers”. If anything he seemed… pleased by the prospect. And that did not sit right with Batman’s theories so he had attempted to offer a help button (which had been refused) and “The Birds” became an official case file in the cave.

It was now July, almost a month past the first encounter with the boys. There had been no new leads since and the Birds had basically dropped off the map. If Bruce wanted answers, then he needed to find them. Preferably not during patrol.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have made his wish a little more specific.

Dick had had no intentions of being anywhere near a bank today but… Damian. Enough said.

It was almost noon and for once, Dick had allowed Tim to accompany him on the search with the meeting place being on Main Street at midday. The two had been walking down the street, eyes peeled for Jason or their little run-a-way when the armored truck came careening around the corner.

People screamed and leaped out of the way as the truck screeched to a halt in front of the bank and out came over a dozen armed men, with Two-Face in the rear, all armed to the teeth. Most of them headed for the bank, but five or six broke off from the main group. They marched over to the cowering civilians and forced them to their feet, herding them into a group.

Hostages.

Dick grabbed Tim and shoved him into a nearby alleyway. The two ducked behind a dumpster as a woman who had been trying to escape was grabbed. She screamed and a gunshot was fired into the air. Tim clung to Dick, burying his face into his older brothers’ jacket. All Dick could do was bite down on his lip.

Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream-

Footsteps faded and the two sat in silence, praying. The two counted to one hundred before Dick peered around the corner. No one was there. The screams of horror had faded as the lucky ones escaped to a safe distance and the hostages were forced to be quiet.

Dick hesitated for a moment. He pushed Tim up and laid his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Stay here.” He ordered. Dick got to his feet, but Tim grabbed his hand.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

Dick knelt back down to eye level, “Jason might be out there. Or Damian. I have to look. Stay here and don’t make a sound. If the situation gets worse, try and sneak down the alley to the other side of town and go home.” He squeezed Tim’s hand, “I’ll be fine.”

“They’ll see you!” Tim insisted.

Dick grinned, “Not unless they look up.” He double-checked the street way before sprinting deeper into the alley. He jumped up on a dumpster, then launched off of that and grasped the bottom rail of one of the fire escapes, pulling himself up to the second story. It only took a few seconds for him to scale the metal railing and make it to the roof.

It looked worse from up here. Men, women, and children alike were huddled in a bunch outside the bank entrance. Six men stood guard, all guns trained on the civilians as their buddies set off the burglar alarms. This operation had clearly been planned and was most likely aiming for time, not for stealth.

Although anybody with eyes could see that. For one, the sun was shining brightly above. 

Dick laid on his stomach and leaned over the side. His eyes scanned the crowd but found no red or gray hoodie. He had to admit it. Jason had been right about the sweatshirts; they made it easy for you to spot one another.

He really hated it when Jason was right.

Dick moved away from the main street and back to the alleys. The space between him and the next rooftop was long. Longer than he was used to. But if he wanted a closer look at the bank, he’d have to jump across.

Eh. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it in years. His parkour adventures around Gotham City the past four years had been the only way he could keep up his trapeze skills.

Dick backed up a few steps. Then he ran full sprint before leaping, before performing a quadruple somersault, and then spreading out his arms to the ledge. He managed to grab it, but only barely. He grasped at the brick ledge and swallowed down a yelp of surprise and pain as he slammed into the wall.

He was definitely going to have some bruises from that.

Alright, he was across. Now he just needed to pull himself up to safety. 

...as the brick was crumbling beneath his fingers.

Jason was going to kill him.

Dick tried to pull himself up, but the brick under his right hand decided now was a good time to break off the building. Which now meant Dick was dangling by one hand about five stories up. The brick clattered against the building before hitting the lid of a trash can, echoing loudly. Dick bit back a curse when only a few seconds later one of the guards out on the streets came around the corner and began to walk down the alley, gun drawn.

Dick’s left hand was starting to cramp and that brick had also decided it wanted to join its friend on the ground. But, if he tried to grab the ledge, the gunman would surely hear him. But if he didn’t grab the ledge, he would slip and most likely die. At least break his spine.

Jason was definitely going to kill him.

The brick started to lean out and Dick made up his mind. He heaved with all his strength upward, pulling with his left and flinging his right hand up and around, yanking himself up and over the ledge. His left hand slipped, shoving the brick off the building and down below, missing the gunman by only a few feet. The guard let out a surprised shout, followed shortly by a gun going off. It hit the brick on the wall and Dick pulled himself away from the ledge. So much for stealth.

“I got a kid over here!”

Please be talking about him and not Tim. Dick got to his feet and screeching metal alerted him to the henchman pulling down the ladder to the fire escape.

Of course, Dick picked the one roof with only an air conditioning unit as cover. That would last about three seconds. He’d have to jump again. He sprinted across the roof, pulling up short of the ledge. The bank was on the other side and the gap between was even further than the first one, by about ten feet.

… Yeah, Dick was not going to even try to do that.

He’d use the fire escape on the other side then. Dick tried his weight and found the structure much too loose to his liking. There were several bolts missing and one of the ladders had actually broken off of its mainframe. “Note to self:” he mumbled to no one, “When I get out of this, call the building inspector. This is a serious safety code violation.”

‘If I get out of this…’

The goon’s footsteps and stumbling got louder and Dick quickly ducked out of sight behind the AC unit. Better some cover than none.

Billy, “the Dud”, as his friends called him, came up onto the roof, ready to shoot. To his surprise, no one was in sight. Where’d the kid go? He moved across the roof to see if the kid had climbed down on the opposite side of the building. His efforts were rewarded by a swift kick in the shins as the kid tried to sweep the man’s feet out from under him.

He yelped and lost hold of his weapon for a moment, as he bent over, grabbed his legs, and cried out in pain. The kid ignored him and ran towards the fire escape Billy had just climbed up. Billy growled, grabbed his gun, and pointed it in the general direction of the kid. “Stop! Or I’ll-”

Later, Dick would describe the experience of his younger brothers. He would claim that a black shape would suddenly drop from the sky and land on the idiot of a man. The figure then knocked the man out with a swift punch to the face, before straightening up.

“Are you alright, Wing?”

Dick was surprised at the name. Batman remembered them? Weird. He forced himself to nod and tried not to think about what might have happened if Batman had come a few seconds too late.

Batman walked forward until he was only a few feet away from Dick, then crouched down to eye level, his white slits narrowing slightly. “Are you sure?”

Dick forced himself to answer verbally this time. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Batman gave a small nod, before standing up to full height. Dick took the opportunity to get a closer look at the costume. Sure, he had seen it before, but it had been kind of dark. Long black cape, the yellow belt of tricks, and the symbol that sent fear through criminals and hope through the innocent.

His thoughts were snapped back to the present as Batman turned around, his cape barely missing Dick’s face. “Come.”

Dick looked down at the streets and decided it would be best for his health to stick with the vigilante. “Where are we going?”

Batman didn’t answer but pulled out his famous grapple gun. He shot a wire to the side of the bank and offered an arm to Dick. He gladly took it and they were suddenly flying through the air. Dick almost laughed aloud, the feeling all too familiar, but the flight ended too quickly and he found himself sitting atop the bank. Batman grabbed a hold of the large grate and pulled off the cover with practiced ease. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Dick looked down at the height between him and the ground. He debated for a brief moment about climbing down, then thought better of it. “Yes, sir.” But before Batman could enter, he suddenly realized. “Oh! I was looking for Jay Bird and Robin. Crow is about two buildings over, hiding in an alley.”

“Crow is safe.” That was all Batman said, but Dick saw no reason not to believe him. Then he disappeared into the building leaving Dick to the birds and the view.

Gotham was prettier at night.

Jason couldn’t recall if Damian had ever hidden in a building before. But apparently, he did. He had always assumed it was just the streets, but it made sense. Buildings had air conditioning and heat. Why would anyone stay on the streets at all times, if they could help it?

Of course, that didn’t mean he was enjoying it right now. Jason had been waiting to meet up with Dick and Tim outside the Gotham Central Bank when he spotted a familiar gray hood duck through the big glass doors. He sighed in annoyance before heading up the stairs.

Jason had always hated interacting with other people. Maybe it was just because he looked like a street kid or maybe it was because the rich were snobs but most conversations ended with the two individuals parting with verbal curses of the other’s existence. 

On the bright side, the rest of his day wouldn’t be spent looking for the little rascal. He entered, avoided the security guard with relative ease, and found Damian chatting with a young woman around the age of twenty. She was laughing and Damian was giggling and Jason was growling.

“-love it when you stop by! Always makes my day!”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought, why not?” Damian flashed an innocent smile.

Jason approached the two and loudly cleared his throat. The two glanced over and the flash of annoyance was clear on Damian’s face, but it quickly passed. “Miss Jess, this is my brother, Jay.”

Jason nodded respectfully, but his gaze was fixed on Damian, a question in his eyes. ‘Who’s she?’

Damian shrugged carelessly, ‘No one of importance. But she is useful.’

Jess laughed with joy, “You never told me you had a brother, Robby!”

“He’s pretty shy.” Damian told him, “Mother must have sent him to take me back to the group.” He raised an eyebrow, ‘Wing with you?’

Jason put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head slightly to the right. ‘Soon.’ He brushed the floor with his right foot. ‘Time to go.’

Damian turned back to Jess, “Sorry, I have to go.”

Jess frowned but nodded understanding. “Of course. Oh! Almost forgot.” She reached into the cup of lollipops beside her and handed Damian a bright green one. “You’re lucky. That was my last apple.”

“Thank you, Miss Jess.”

Jason raised both eyebrows, ‘Seriously?’

Damian pulled the wrapper off and popped it into his mouth. ‘What? They’re really good and you know how Wing is about buying unnecessary sugar.’

Jason would have retorted, but Jess held out her mug of treats to him and smiled, “Would you like one too, Jay?”

Jason hesitated, then shrugged. “Why not? Thank you, Miss.” He plucked a red one out and pocketed it. “Come on, Robby.”

“Goodbye, Miss Jess!”

“Anytime, Robby!”

As soon as the two were out of earshot Jason said, “Suckers? You ran away for suckers?”

“First of all,” the arrogant tone was back and Jason had to resist rolling his eyes, “They are lollipops. There is a difference.”

“Whatever.”

“Second of all,” Damian motioned back at the clerk, “Jessica is the only person I tolerate in this establishment. The only reason I put up with any of these people is because of this apple-flavored treat.”

“So…” Jason smirked, “You ran away for lollipops.”

“Shut up, Todd.”

Jason had a good comeback lined up and was ready to swing when the men with guns burst in. Five shots rang out and people screamed, throwing themselves to the ground. Jason was no exception, dragging Damian down with him and making sure the kid was at least partially shielded by his body. He knew he’d get yelled at by him at a later point, but Jason would rather deal with Damian’s wrath than Dick’s.

“Nobody move!” a man stepped forward, which Jason identified as the man in charge. Two-Face. He looked even more disturbing in person.

His men spread out, pulling women from their husbands and children from the women, holding them at gunpoint. One of the men came over to Jason and Damian. Jason lunged at him, his street reflexes kicking into high gear. He managed to get the man to drop the gun by punching him in the nose and had just stolen his knife, but the sound of a gun cocking from behind made him freeze up.

Damian had been snatched from behind and currently had a gun pressed to his temple. The man holding him hostage smiled at Jason, before motioning with the gun for him to put down the knife.

Dick was going to kill him.

Jason dropped the knife, which clattered on the floor. The guy he had punched now had blood pouring freely from his now broken nose and Jason found himself forced to his hands and knees, eyes facing the floor with a gun pressed against his neck. Damian was pulled away to the center of the room with the rest of the hostages, spitting out curses and other insults that Jason knew Dick wouldn’t have approved of.

Dick was definitely going to kill him.

Jason gritted his teeth. He hated feeling useless. But all he could do was watch as the bank robbers broke into the vault and began moving money from the vault to the truck. His “personal guard” had relaxed enough by now that Jason chanced a look around to watch the action. His timing was perfect because he looked up just in time to see Batman sneak out of an air duct in the high ceiling, dropping onto one of the gargoyles in the corner.

Batman’s eyes scanned the floor, assessing the situation. Jason thought he might have stiffened when he made eye contact with him. Batman’s hand flicked down slightly and Jason got the message, quickly looking away.

Instead, he looked at Damian, who was looking at him. Although he looked calm, Jason could guess the storm of emotions underneath. He gave a slight nod to him, winked twice with his right eye, then scrunched his face.

Damian raised his left eyebrow, ‘That’s the plan? Seriously?’

Jason flicked his eyes up to the ceiling. Damian casually twisted his head to the side and briefly followed his gaze. It was enough.

Damian’s eyes glazed over, he swayed on his feet for a moment or two. He let out a moan and dropped like a dead weight back onto his guard.

Said guard accidentally pulled the trigger at the sudden weight that fell against his legs and stomach. Luckily, the gun had not been pressed against anyone's head. He cursed and pointed his still smoking gun at Damian, cursing him.

Jason cried out, “Don’t shoot him, please! He’s my brother! He’s having a seizure!” His shout startled his captor, who loosened his grip on the kid. Damian then dropped to the ground, grabbing his head and moaning again, this one a little louder. The distraction allowed Jason to slip free from his own startled captor and run over. He kneeled down beside Damian and tried to play the part of the panicked family member. It really wasn’t that hard. “Robby, can you hear me?”

Damian began to convulse, his body twitching rapidly and his breathing becoming choppy. Jason looked around at the guards, “Is there a doctor here? Please! He could die!” Hopefully, there was not a doctor. The last thing Jason wanted was to have some stranger call them out on play acting a seizure in the middle of a robbery.

“Oh my gosh!” a woman cried in terror from somewhere in the back. A guard yelled at her to shut up, but his buddy looked a little worried.

“What do we do? Like, this wasn’t supposed to involve anyone dying.”

Two-Face wandered out of the vault, clearly frustrated at the delay by sputtering curses and insults. “What is going on?”

“Sorry, boss. Kids having a seizure.” The guard who had accidentally fired shifted his feet nervously. 

Jason was sweeping his eyes around the room as if desperately pleading for help. Most people looked away, their fear overpowering their concern. In reality, he was watching, albeit out of the corner of his eye most of the time, as Batman swooped down silently and knocked out guards. Most of them he hung from the rafters to keep them from being spotted or found, but a few were left on the ground. He counted five… six… seven…

Two-Face growled, marching over to where Damian and Jason were. Jason quickly bent his head down, partially to avoid looking at the scarred face and partially to play the part of the concerned brother. “Please… he needs a doctor. Can’t someone call an ambulance?”

Two-Face bent down closer and Damian suddenly thrashed his arms at the villain. Jason bit his lip to keep from scolding the kid. They wanted to distract him, not get killed!

Two-Face pulled out his gun and his famous coin, mumbling to himself. “This is a pathetic waste of time. Let’s just shoot the kid and get on with it.” His voice suddenly flipped to a kinder, but still harsh tone, “It’s not his fault he’s this way. The job is almost done anyway. Let’s just move on.” The rougher voice was back, “There’s only one fair way to decide.”

Jason swallowed hard. He pulled Damian into his arms and leaned down so his mouth was against his ear, “Hey, wrap it up. He’s gonna shoot you.”

Almost immediately, Damian’s twitching and convulsing started to slow and become less violent. His moaning turned into mumbles and he fluttered his eyes as if “waking up”.

Two-Face fingered his coin for a moment before tossing it into the air.

Jason felt, rather than saw what was about to happen next. He dropped himself flat on the floor as Batman crashed down, punching Two-Face square in the jaw and then disarmed the two remaining guards. The fight was short, but Jason swore he heard a few bones crunch or at least crack under the pressure of Batman’s blows.

One moment there had been a bank full of conscious robbers, now there wasn’t. Batman straightened up and turned to the nearest security guard, “Make sure no one leaves this building. There are still some men outside that I need to deal with.”

The guard nodded, eyes wide with awe.

“What took you so long?” Damian demanded, his tone harsh. He was now sitting up on the floor and glaring at the Bat. “He was going to shoot me!”

Jason glanced over at the dropped coin. “According to the coin, he actually wasn’t.”

“You are not helping!” Damian snapped.

Batman sighed and Jason had the impression that he might have been rolling his eyes. He bent down and picked up Damian, then motioned for Jason to follow him. Jason bit back a groan but didn’t really have a choice. Batman had his kid brother.

Once out of earshot of the hostage group, he turned towards Jason, but his eyes were on the boy in his arms. “Are you alright, Robin?”

Damian looked annoyed at the question. “Of course I’m okay! Put me down!”

“Rob, he’s checking on your seizure,” Jason quickly jumped in. “And normally he is fine-- but maybe you want to get us out of here and take us to the hospital? It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Batman gave Jason a look that clearly said, “I don’t believe you.”

Damian was not helping the situation, his own angry glare being shot at the older boy. Eh. Can’t say Jason didn’t try.

Batman sighed and put Damian down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes most likely closed. “I assume you would both like to be out of this building when the police arrive?”

Jason hesitated a moment. Well, they had already dug themselves into this grave. Might as well lie in it. “Yes, sir.”

“Any reason why?”

Neither boy chose to answer, avoiding the gaze of the towering man. The vigilante sighed loudly. “Very well. Grab hold of me.”

Uh… okay then. Jason wasn’t expecting that. But, he did as he was told, for once in his life without complaint. Damian followed likewise, the two of them wrapping their arms around his neck. The grappling hook flew up to the air duct he came in through and he motioned for them to climb off and in. “Wing is waiting outside. I will fetch all of you when the coast is clear. For now, stay quiet and stay put.”

Damian climbed in first and Jason followed shortly after. The duct was dusty and very stuffy, but Jason made a note to look into air ducts more carefully in the future. They might be useful entry points for his… nightly tours of rich people’s homes.

When Gordon pulled up to the bank, he found fourteen men handcuffed and tied together, along with Two-Face who was gagged and glaring daggers at him. He motioned for the policemen to read them their rights before approaching the head security officer.

“Where’s Batman?”

To his surprise, the man shrugged. “Don’t know. He left a few minutes ago with some kids.”

Kids? “Any reason why?”

“They were in the bank when it was robbed. One of them… well, I think he had some sort of seizure, but he seemed fine after Batman arrived. The other kid was his brother.”

“And he just… left? You didn’t even ask where he went?”

The guard shrugged, “He’s the freakin’ Bat. You try and keep him around.”

Gordon had to give the man that. “Alright, everyone. Get to work.” Statements needed to be collected, security footage recovered and willing witnesses found.

It was almost an hour later when Batman returned. He didn’t stay long but explained he had taken the two boys to a nearby clinic for a medical evaluation, despite his apparent recovery.

“Were the parents called?”

Batman didn’t respond immediately. “I left the boys with proper help. I didn’t remain for the evaluation.”

“Then what took so long?”

With a completely straight face, Batman replied with a single word. “Traffic.” Then he pulled out his grapple hook and headed into the sky leaving a very annoyed and confused Commissioner behind.

Casefile: The Birds

Suspects:
“ Nightwing ”
“ Jay Bird ”
“ Crow ”
“ Robin ”

Status: In progress

Opened: June 19th 20XX:

Closed: N/A

Reports:
June 19th- The Wharf
June 27th- (Robin) Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway
July 13th- Two-Face Bank Robbery
→open report←

Two-Face attempted a daylight robbery on one of the northern Gotham City Banks. I found Crow in a nearby alleyway. He gave a steady report of what he had seen and explained Nightwing had climbed on the roof to look for the other two birds. I told Crow to retreat back down the alley and stand by my car. Nightwing was being attacked by one of the robbers. I engaged the robber and incapacitated him. Nightwing was then moved to the roof of Gotham City Bank North. Jay Bird and Robin were inside the bank, both being held as hostages. Robin appeared to have a seizure, but on closer inspection the incident was play acting. After the robbers and Two-Face were incapacitated I removed all three from the scene. Crow was waiting for us by the Batmobile. All four politely thanked me and ran off to the nearby park. They remained there for over an hour. Unable to remain in contact due to the bank robbery ( full report )

Unsure of what kind of situation these “Birds” are in. All evidence indicates simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Beginning to suspect the four are informants for someone or something. Will continue to keep an eye out for them on patrol and investigating possible motives and connections.
→end report←  

Known affiliates: N/A

Attached Evidence:
Security Footage , June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf
Security Footage , July 13th, Gotham City Bank

Attached Files and Reports:
N/A

Chapter Text

After their second encounter with the bat, Dick had decided it would be best if no one left the apartment for a week or so. No one argued against it. After all, if Roman was questioned about his “loose rules”, and lost the right to be their “guardian”, then all four of their lives would get infinitely worse. First off, they would most likely be split up. Adding to that fact: the probability of getting put somewhere much worse than “negligent guardian” was way too high, especially in Gotham.

The bank had been a close call. By some miracle, they had convinced Batman to drop them off across town, where the four had spent the rest of the day at the park. They returned home around nine that night, making sure the Dark Knight was not following them.

Since then, no one had left the apartment. The four of them sat in their room, looked through their few books, played some (quiet) games, ate their meager food, and busted out Jason’s emergency rations. It was boring, it was long, and it was necessary.

But they were also four boys, locked in a room, with nothing to do. Dick was surprised they lasted as long as they did. After a week, they were all ready to get out of the apartment. So they cautiously ventured out into daytime Gotham, with plans to return by seven pm. No need to take chances with running into the Bat again. Twice was more than enough for their lives.

Dick’s only regret was that Tim’s birthday was spent inside. He was proud of himself for getting Tim’s gift early, which was an old detective kit from the local thrift store. The magnifying glass was cracked and the finger dust powder was missing but Tim had loved it anyway.

Jason had given Tim an old pocket knife he insisted he paid for. (Jason had confided in Dick that on one of his nightly outings some drunk guy had attacked him with the knife and he had just taken it, after knocking the mugger out with his trusty pipe. After Dick had given him a two- minute lecture on safety, he gave him permission to give it to Tim) Despite the fact it was only a knife and had none of the “fun” add-ons, Tim immediately shoved the thing into his pocket and refused to let anyone touch it.

The only person to actually leave the apartment (without telling anyone and at night) had been Damian, who had vanished for six hours only to come back with an old empty flash drive. He refused to tell anyone where he acquired it, no matter how much Dick pestered him. Tim loved it and Damian had claimed the honor of “best present”. (During the years Damian lived alone with Roman, he had befriended several people in the nearby neighborhood, including the owner of a used computer shop. The shop was originally a block from Romans, but had relocated to the other side of town, which meant Damian had to walk almost three hours to get there as he could not afford bus fare if he wanted to have money for the hard drive).

Now, a few days after the “celebration” the boys were currently heading back to Roman’s after their first day back in the town. It was also a day of making sure Jason didn’t get caught pickpocketing anyone, Tim didn’t hack anything too important, and Damian didn’t run off into the crowd. 

Dick sighed and glanced at the setting sun. Dusk had settled on Gotham and he estimated that they would reach home just before full dark. He’d wait until midnight before sneaking out. After the last few weeks, he needed to feel the wind in his hair and watch the ground far beneath him.

They were about three blocks away from Roman’s apartment when they came across the party. Jason whistled at the cars that pulled to a stop in front of the old town hall. “Woah. Brucie must be celebrating something big tonight.”

“Not Mr. Wayne,” Tim corrected, “Miss Veronica Vreeland. She’s throwing a charity ball to raise money for wells in Africa.”

“Well,” Jason rolled his eyes, “Isn’t that nice?”

Dick punched his shoulder, “At least it isn’t for some political tycoon.”

As they drew closer, the strong aroma of freshly baked pastries and grilled meat came wafting in the wind. Dick tried to ignore them, reminding himself that Roman would have some Uncrustables waiting for them outside their door at the apartment. He frowned at the thought. At least they were fed something…

Beside him, Damian’s stomach growled loudly. Tim, Jason, and Dick all looked at him simultaneously and he grinned, a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Jason smirked, “Me too, Robin. Me too.”

Tim looked longingly at the party, “Too bad we weren’t invited.”

“Who would invite us?” Jason snorted.

Dick’s stomach growled this time.

Jason threw his hands in the air. “That’s it. Come on, Robin. I need that innocent face of yours.”

Damian followed Jason down the street without protest. Tim frowned and went to follow, but Dick grabbed his wrist. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim looked confused. It was only then Dick remembered Tim hadn’t been around when they pulled this “con” (as Jason insisted on calling it) before.

He pointed at the party, “Alright, so generally at the elite parties there is a buffet table that anyone can eat off. This includes the security, as long as they are on break or in the room with the table.”

“Okay…?” Tim raised an eyebrow.

Dick pointed at the distant figures of Jason and Damian who were standing on the street corner down the road from the party. “As you know, Damian can act like an angel when he wants to. He’s the first one to approach.”

Tim nodded, still clearly confused.

“Jason comes in next since he is the second youngest… well, he was .” Dick playfully nudged Tim who let out a soft giggle. Dick spoke aloud, partially to himself and partially to Tim. “We’ll have to teach you how to do this another day… but for now, follow my lead.”

Damian split off from Jason, sprinting down the street towards the party. Jason waited about ten seconds before following, not quite at a full sprint but faster than a jog. Tim frowned and pointed at the scene. “What are they doing now?”

“Well,” Dick pointed at Damian, “he makes the first contact. Jason is right behind him- that will be you next time- and then I, well we, approach in about two minutes.”

“But what are we doing?” Tim asked, still clearly confused.

Dick chuckled, “Getting free food. What else?”

Antonio was bored. Very bored. He saw most of the elite class as snobs, and most activities they did proved that claim. Unfortunately, the elite were also the people who paid him so he bit his tongue and held back any insults that popped into his mind.

And of course, he had been assigned on gate duty, the most boring part of the job. You smiled and greeted everyone at the party. They smiled and gave a polite response before vanishing inside, leaving you to another smile and greeting. His face was starting to hurt from the smile.

Another celebrity couple pulled up and he gave a polite nod, “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s our pleasure.” The man, who Antonio thought might have been from a movie he saw a year ago, said. The woman giggled and the two walked past his left shoulder never to see him again.

He was counting down the moments to his break when the boy suddenly appeared.

He looked to be between six and eight years old, with short black hair and emerald green eyes. He was wearing jeans and a gray pullover that looked like hand-me-downs. He was giggling to himself and was panting, obviously having just been running. He looked up at Antonio and smiled, a little shy, “Excuse me? Sir?”

Antonio nodded.

“Would it be alright for me to hide behind you? I’m playing hide and seek with my brothers.”

Antonio frowned. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if that was a violation of security. True, the boy didn’t want to enter the party, but what would the guests think if they pulled up and a small child was standing behind him? Also, who played hide and seek in the streets of Gotham? The city wasn’t his hometown, but he was pretty sure the streets were not considered “safe”. Before he could make up his mind, a different boy, also with black hair rammed into the younger one. He blinked as if shocked and then dropped down next to the boy. “Oh, geez. Sorry, Rob. But you can’t run off like that!”

The younger glared at his older brother. “Seriously?”

Antonio chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been found. Sorry, kid.”

Gray hoodie got this pout on his face. “I wouldn’t have stopped if I knew you wouldn’t help me.”

“Aw, now that ain’t nice, Rob.” The other boy said. “Apologize to the nice man.”

“He’s not nice! He got me caught!” To Antonio’s horror, tears were forming in the child’s eyes.

Antonio quickly reassured the boy, “I’m sorry, Rob, was it? I didn’t mean to upset you!”

The red jacket kid patted Rob’s head, “Come on, don’t cry.”

“What’s going on, Jay?”

Antonio looked to his right and found two more boys, also with black hair. The taller one was the one who had spoken. The shorter one was looking at the scene, clearly in shock about… something. He was looking at the crying younger brother like he didn’t know who he was, which threw Antonio for a second.

The now established Jay threw his hands in the air, “Little Robby here was trying to hide behind the security guard but didn’t hide in time. Now he’s upset he got caught, even though we told him playtime was over. Mom and Dad are not going to be happy...” Jay abandoned his little brother and went to the others. “What do you suggest, Wyn?”

Wyn patted Jay’s arm and crouched down next to Robby. “Now, baby bird, you’re just hungry. When we get home we’ll have dinner, okay?”

Antonio thought he saw a flash of anger cross Rob’s face, but he blinked and he was back to sad. Must have been a trick of the light. 

“But that’s over an hour away!” Rob wailed.

Antonio glanced at his watch. It was almost seven o’clock. These kids didn’t eat until eight? No wonder Rob was cranky.

The other brother frowned, “What are you talking about? We’re only-OW!” Jay had elbowed him in the ribs hard and was giving him a glare.

Antonio raised an eyebrow. Jay noticed the look and shrugged, “We’re only a block from our bus-stop but we still have an hour ride across town to get home. Little… Crowley here always forgets the bus isn’t home.”

Crowley looked at his brother very confused and Jay just nodded. “Well, Wyn, I think we should get going.”

“I’m hungry!” Robby moaned.

Wyn swung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. “Uh… how about a granola bar?”

“No!”

“That’s all I got.”

“I want real food!”

Antonio watched the situation with sympathy. He had been the older brother to a little sister and knew how that bus ride was going to be. Long and very loud with shrieks and crying.

Wyn shook his head, “Maybe Mommy and Daddy will have food at the bus stop.”

“I want food now !”

“Robby…”

Antonio finally spoke up, unable to bear Robby’s tears any longer. “I could get you some food from inside!”

Wyn looked up, surprised. “That’s very kind of you, sir, but we don’t want to trouble you-”

“No trouble,” Antonio insisted. “My bosses told us we could take whatever we wanted. I can ask one of my friends inside to bring a small bag to hold you all over until you get home.”

Robby stopped crying and looked up from the ground with wide bright eyes. “Really?”

Wyn hesitated, “Well… it would keep the baby bird from chirping too much…” 

Rob shot a withering glare from the side, but Antonio didn’t notice.

Wyn looked up at Antonio and gave a small smile, “That would be really appreciated, sir. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honest.”

Alfred pulled up to the old town hall and got out of the car. He made his way around the front to the passenger side and found a strange sight.

Four boys aged between eight and twelve were leaning against the far wall, chatting with the gate guard. They were not dressed for the charity ball, all wearing jeans and jackets, despite the summer weather. Their hoods were down showing bright faces and smiles.

He managed not to stare too long and opened the door for Master Bruce and his date, Miss Lacy, a ballerina from a visiting ballet troupe that was currently in Gotham. Personally, Alfred found her nice, but rather dull-witted, which made her a perfect date for Master Bruce.

Miss Lacy smiled at the butler and thanked him.

Bruce got out of the car and thanked Alfred as well before his eyes landed on the four boys and his smile froze in place. Even with the hoods down, he’d recognize them from anywhere. His slippery Birds were sitting right in front of him at the Charity ball he had been dreading for the past month. What an interesting surprise.

He confirmed positives on eye colors (green for Robin and Jay Bird, blue for Wing and Crow) along with hair colors (all had black hair of varying lengths).

The boys and the guard had been discussing Gotham City when they arrived with the guard complaining about the weather. “It’s always so… dreary.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Jay asked, a smirk on his face.

The guard shook his head, “Lucky for me. I’m from Metropolis.”

Crow and Robin snorted. Jay rolled his eyes. Wing picked up the conversation, “You ever see Superman?”

“A few times. Almost always in the air and always a fast blur. I saw him during one of the rallies they have once a month, giving Superman the Key to the City or whatever award it was.”

Bruce had to hide a smile. Clark had once told him he had so many Keys to the City of Metropolis that he might as well be their locksmith. This was one of the many advantages of being Batman. No ridiculous ceremonies he had to appear at and give speeches for. He had enough of that as Bruce Wayne.

The guard finally noticed Bruce and his date, quickly straightening up. “Sorry, Mister…?”

“Wayne. Bruce Wayne.”

Crow’s eyes widened and he grabbed Wing’s hand, whispering something very quickly that Bruce was unable to make out. His other hand went to the hood on his back, as if to pull it up. Wing stopped him with a smile and gentle pat on his shoulder.

Bruce made a note of the interaction but made a show of introducing his date. “This is Miss Lacy.”

Lacy gave a smile and a wave.

“Mr. Wayne!” The guard’s blood drained out of his face. Of course, he knew who Bruce Wayne was, Metropolis boy or not. “I am so sorry, I was just-”

“It’s fine… Antonio.” Bruce read the nametag on the man’s suit. “Pleased to make your acquaintances. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and I can actually say I have met Superman.”

Antonio perked up slightly, “That is hardly a surprise, Mr. Wayne. A man of your situation must have many problems a superhero becomes involved with.”

Before Bruce could respond, Crow piped up, his voice clearly defensive. “I’m sure Mr. Wayne calls Batman before he calls Superman.”

Robin nodded eagerly, “That’s right. I’m sure Mr. Wayne calls the Dark Knight more often than the Man of Steel.”

Antonio frowned, “I thought Batman was just an urban legend.”

Jay snorted. “Not even close.”

“Well, has anyone ever seen him?”

“All the time!” Robin perked up, “We’ve seen him.”

Antonio smiled but clearly didn’t believe them. “Have you now?”

Robin was starting to look angry and Jay wasn’t far behind, prompting Bruce to step in. “I can assure you, Antonio, Batman is very real. These boys are right. My first call has always been to Gotham’s protector. My acquaintance to the Man of Steel was actually through the Dark Knight.”

Antonio looked chastened and quickly apologized to the boys.

A different guard arrived from the building, holding a large paper bag. His nametag read Rick and he looked a little confused. “Here you are, Antonio. What ya need all this food for, anyway?”

Antonio thanked his friend then handed the bag to Robin. “There you are, baby bird. That should tide you over until dinner, don’t you think?”

Robin’s eyes flashed with anger, but a large smile was all Antonio noticed. He opened the bag and his eyes grew wide in surprise, “Are those cupcakes ?”

Wing stepped in quickly, “Thanks, Antonio. We’d best be going.”

“Oh, gee.” Antonio looked up at the fading sky, “It’s kind of late to be walking alone. Perhaps you should wait until I get my break and I can walk you down there.”

Jay stepped in, “That’s kind of you, but our parents are expecting us. Thanks anyway!”

The four began to walk down the road and Antonio tried one more time, “Are you sure? It really wouldn’t be any trouble and I’d hate for something to happen to you!”

“We’re good! We have the Dark Knight, remember?” Robin called over his shoulder. Then all four tore off running down the street.

Lacy pulled at Bruce’s arm, “Shouldn’t we get to the party, Brucie?”

Bruce had learned not to wince at the nickname and instead threw her a dashing smile, “Of course, Lacy.” He made a show of patting his pockets and groaned, smacking his face. “Aww, darling, I forgot my checkbook at the mansion. I was supposed to write a check from Wayne Enterprises.”

“Oh,” Lacy looked worried, “What will you do?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to go get it.” Bruce pushed her towards the ball, “But that’s no reason for you to not go in now. I won’t be longer than thirty minutes.”

“Are you sure, Brucie?” Lacy cocked her head to the side.

“I’m sure. I’ll be right back.” Bruce climbed back in the car and Alfred got back in the driver’s seat. 

After the doors shut, Alfred looked in the rearview mirror. “After the boys, sir?”

“Of course, Alfred.”

They pulled away from the sidewalk and started down the road. Alfred turned left and slowed as they caught sight of the four of them down the street.

To both of their surprise, the boys were only a few blocks away from what appeared to be their destination. The four turned into an alleyway then climbed up a fire escape and through a window, which light flickered on a short time later.

Alfred and Bruce sat there for another ten minutes before Alfred asked gently, “Have you seen enough, sir?”

Bruce nodded and the two returned to the now extremely dull party. 

Bruce had his lead.

The following week, Bruce Wayne came up from the cave around four in the morning and collapsed on the nearest couch clearly exhausted. Alfred found him two hours later and let him sleep until eleven before walking him up for a proper meal.

Bruce picked at his brunch of pancakes and eggs, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes before finally taking a bite.

Alfred approached with a pot of coffee, a little concerned. “Master Bruce, are you sure you are feeling well? You seem distracted.” He poured some of the brown beverage into a red mug, then placed it on the table. “Perhaps you should cancel your meetings for the day.”

Bruce gave a small smile, “Sorry, Alfred. I just…” he sighed, gently stirring the coffee around. “I can't seem to get the Birds out of my mind.”

Alfred’s concern disappeared. “Well, Master Bruce, perhaps it is because you have been studying them for the last month.”

Bruce took a sip of his drink before responding. “There’s something about them, Alfred. I can’t explain it.”

Once he traced the address the Birds had fled to, he had been able to finally get proper names. And once he had names it had been all too easy to find the information he was looking for. 

It had been a bit of a surprise to find they were all orphans, all in the care of a single guardian. Roman James had no previous criminal history, but his father had been arrested when Roman was sixteen for armed robbery. Roman had been married, only for his wife to file for divorce six months later. His sister, May, was conveniently the social worker assigned to all four of the children. A little too convenient for Bruce’s liking, although no evidence indicated Roman was abusive- at least none so far.

Bruce wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried by that fact.

“Jay Bird” or Jason Todd was the son of an alcoholic gang member and an addict mother. According to a newspaper article published six years ago, his father had been arrested and incarcerated by the police, sentenced to thirty years on charges of robbery, assault, and resisting arrest. He was still there, as far as Bruce knew. The next article Bruce’s research produced was an obituary for his mother, dated two years after Jason’s father’s arrest. The police report of the incident provided the cause of death (drug overdose) and that eight-year-old Jason had been the one to find his mother on the bathroom floor dead a few hours after the time of death. After two weeks in a boy's home, Jason was sent to Roman’s home, where Damian already had been for the past two years.

According to the social services database, Damian, or “Robin”, had no second name. He had simply been left on some church steps in Star City when he was around what the doctors estimated to be two years old with a note that simply said, “His name is Damian” . No known living family. May James had been assigned his case and she had quickly sent him to her brother with little questions asked. He lived alone with Roman for two years. Bruce didn’t even want to think about what might have happened in that time.

Timothy Drake aka “Crow” was the most familiar name to Bruce. The Drakes had been a member of the elite class in Gotham (albeit a bit lower than Bruce was for “proper” interactions) and he remembered reading the tragic story in the newspaper only a year ago. Mrs. Drake died when Tim was three from cancer. Mr. Drake had refused to remarry and had taken upon himself to raise the boy to the best of his abilities. Tim had done well for not having a mother and the family was a happy one. Only five years after his mother’s death, Timothy had been playing at a friend's house for the evening. His father had needed to do some work at home and Tim had been sent away as to not distract him. When his father did not show up on the agreed-upon time, Tim had gotten a ride home only to find his father dead. Shot by a robber, who had also stolen most of the valuables in the house. No family member had been willing to take him, leaving Tim with Roman only a week after the funeral.

Richard John Grayson, “Nightwing”, son of John and Mary Grayson. The Flying Graysons. He remembered hearing about the accident that had claimed the two famous acrobatics. Bruce also didn’t remember anyone mentioning a child being present at their deaths. Bruce had been planning to see the very show they had died in, but trouble at the office had pulled him away. The newspaper articles and cold case file was enough to send Bruce reeling. A young, eight-year-old boy with young loving parents suddenly found himself witnessing their untimely deaths- and was unable to do anything.

It was familiar. A little too familiar for his liking.

But the biggest question was why were the four out on the streets so much? And where did Roman fall in all of this? Nothing Bruce had found showed any indication that Roman was involved in any “illegal activities”. And if the boys were in a bad situation, they had run into Batman enough to have the courage to speak up.

Right?

Bruce shook the dark thoughts away and turned his attention back to his breakfast. “Alfred, do you have any syrup in the kitchen?”

“The last thing you need, Master Bruce, is more sugar in your diet,” Alfred sighed, but dutifully left the dining room and returned only a few seconds later, syrup in hand.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Bruce poured a healthy (or unhealthy, if you asked Alfred) amount of the sticky substance on his pancakes before carving into them. After two more helpings of eggs, sausage, and pancakes, Bruce stood up from the table and headed down to the cave’s training mats. After a late night in front of the computer, he was ready for a long work-out.

He had the basic facts now. Now he just needed to figure out the “why”.

Chapter Text

Damian woke up to Todd creeping out of bed. Normally, he’d ignore it, but Todd had just woken him up from one of his own nightmares and Damian was in no hurry to get back to sleep. He rolled over to face Todd, who was checking his backpack for his needed ‘supplies’ for the night.

Todd didn’t seem surprised by the turn of events, only pausing in his movements to motion at Damian to remain quiet.

Damian rolled his eyes before whispering. “I am not going to wake them up, Todd. Honestly.”

Drake chose that perfect moment to moan in his sleep. Todd gave Damian a look, which he responded to by grunting. Damian then climbed out of bed and quietly followed Todd out the window, despite the death glare he received from his elder brother.

“Damian go back to bed.”

“I would rather see what you do all night.”

“Damian, I’m serious. The streets are no place for a child.”

“You are a child!”

“Shh!” Todd clamped a hand over Damian’s mouth. “Rule number one: Don’t yell.”

“I was not- “

“Rule number two.” Todd interrupted, “If you want to come, you gotta listen to everything I tell you. No protesting, no complaining, no critiquing. Got it?”

Damian frowned. “I… agree.”

“Then follow my lead, baby bird.”

“Do not call me-“ Damian bit his lip as Todd’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath before grumbling. “Very well. No protests starting now.”

“Good.”

This was going to be a long night.

To say Jason was annoyed about having a tag along would be an understatement. Jason had been planning this particular night outing for the past two weeks.

First, he was going to go to the old donut shop his mom used to take him to when he was kid. The place was closed but if Jason beat the dumpster divers, he’d find some mostly clean goodies. Then, he was going to head down Brooklyn St and see if any cars looked like they could do without their tires. There would most likely be at least one rich schmuck who decided that tonight was the perfect night to drink their woes away at the very exclusive club just down the road. Then, Jason would head off to his pal at the local pawn shop and see what kind of pretty penny he could get for some nice tires-- or at least see what he could trade for them. Hopefully get something good. If not, he knew a penthouse where the guard always slept through his shift. There’d probably be something semi-decent there.

But then Damian had to be stubborn and suddenly show an interest in Jason’s… less than legal activities. Jason had never taken Damian out at night before. At least, not without Dick being there. And of course, Tim came along as well. But just Damian? Never happened.

And why would Jason take one of the youngsters out on the streets at night in Gotham City? Damian didn’t need to see all of the horrors of night-time Gotham. Jason had grown up with them and he supposed Damian had as well- to an extent . The first memorable years of the kid’s life were spent alone with Roman. Who knew if the kid snuck out or how far he traveled alone? Jason shuttered to think about what can happen to a kid on the streets—and he had seen or experienced them all personally.

Despite what Damian protested, he was the baby of the family. That meant you felt this natural draw to protect him, even when he might not need protection. Jason would never say it out loud, but he felt the draw just as much, if not more than Dick. And if Jason was honest with himself, he felt a similar connection to little Timmy—not that he’d admit it aloud.

But this wasn’t Tim. This was Damian.

And with one of his kid brothers in tow, Jason decided against his “big night”. A bit begrudgingly, he decided to do something he hadn’t done since he was Damian’s age. “Move quickly and stay quiet,” Jason barked, glancing behind him.

Damian nodded, his hood shifting on his head. He looked so small compared to the darkness around him. The gray jacket faded into the black around it as Damian began to follow Jason through the streets.

The kid knew how to hide, which made sense given his habit of running. He had as much, if not more experience than Jason. He could duck out of sight at the slightest sound of trouble/knew when to keep quiet. Jason admitted to himself this helped them travel across Gotham a lot quicker than usual. It only took half an hour to reach their intended destination.

Damian did not look impressed. “The zoo?”

“You like animals, right?” Jason cocked an eyebrow.

“You do not visit animals every night, Todd.”

“No, I don’t. But I also don’t have a child as a tag-along every night.”

Damian looked like he wanted to protest, but seemed to think better of it, remaining silent. “I’ve been here before, Jay Bird.”

“Well, we can still look around. Right?”

“Very well.”

Avoiding security was easy (there was one guard and he fell asleep around one in the morning), which left the two of them alone. Jason was a little impressed as Damian rolled off facts about several of the exhibits. Not that he would ever say it. He did take note that the boy only cared about the more “dangerous” animals. They spent a particularly long time in front of the cages of the vipers, tigers, and lions.

This was where Jason finally had enough animal fun-facts. “You sound like Crow. Please stop.”

“Ttt. I do not sound like Drake.”

“Yeah. You do.” 

Damian folded his arms. “Then why do we not leave and do something you would normally participate in.”

“He… ck no! Wing would kill me.” Jason sat down on one of the benches.

“Chicken.”

Jason glared. “ No . And that’s final.”

“ Fine. Then perhaps something more productive.”

“Meaning…?”

Damian shifted his stance, putting his hands up in a defensive stance. “Fight me.” It was stated in such a matter a fact tone, Jason couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah, I don’t see how that’s going to help keep me out of trouble with Wing.”

Damian shrugged, “Like it or not, I am getting older and I am growing, despite Roman’s poor diet he gives us. Some of my hiding places are getting to be a bit… tight. I am going to have to start fighting, whether you and Wing like it or not.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, only to close it after a second. He had no argument with that statement. And even if he did, it would be a lie. Gotham was not a kind city and Damian had a point. “When you say “fight me”, are we talking about an actual fight or self-defense?”

“Is there a difference?” Damian cocked his head to the side.

“Well,” Jason thought for a moment. “I would say there is. A fight is something you plan on winning. Self-defense is being able to get away to win another day.” He paused, “If you think I go out looking for trouble, then you’re wrong.”

“You literally rob people.”

“ Certain people,” Jason emphasized. “I would, for instance, never rob someone who has a conceal carry. If someone pulls a weapon on me, I drop the thing and run. Nothing that I steal is worth getting shot. I can find an easy target somewhere else.”

Damian frowned. “Then why are you always coming home from a fight?”

“Ah, that’s different circumstances,” Jason replied.

Damian waited a moment, but Jason did not elaborate. “Like…?”

“Uh…” Jason shifted his stance, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, we live in Gotham City. It isn’t exactly known for being friendly to people.”

“You are avoiding the question, Jay Bird.”

“Look, kid. Just know that if someone tries to snatch you off the streets that it is definitely worth getting shot to not go with them. Okay?” Jason attempted a casual shrug.

Damian blinked. “People have tried to kidnap you ?”

“Hence why I carry a knife,” Jason produced the switchblade from his pocket. “Now, just because I’m a known alley kid, I get a little more… attention than others. But most of that attention is drug dealers and some old gang buddies of my deadbeat dad. You on the other hand… well, stay away from non-descript vans.” 

“I am not an idiot, Todd,” Damian glared at him. “And you do not have to coddle me. Grayson has already informed me of the horror of child trafficking.”

“Oh, thank Gotham,” Jason visibly relaxed. “I did not want to go into that.”

“Are you going to fight me or not?”

Jason motioned to the nearby grass lot near the lion cages. “One condition: this is not a fight for you. It is self-defense.”

“What about you?”

Jason smirked, “It’s a fight.”

“That is not fair!”

“No, it’s reality. You’re not gettin’ into fights. You are running .” Jason smirked.

Damian glared at him.

Well, this wasn’t exactly how Jason had pictured on spending his birthday, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed in the turn of events. Celebrating twelve years of life by beating up his kid brother was definitely not the weirdest ways Jason had partied in the past. And it was more legal than his previous plans, which would definitely improve Wing’s mood.

Not that Dick or anyone actually knew when Jason’s birthday was, no matter how much they pestered.

Silver linings, Jason supposed.

A few years back, after one too many animal-related crimes, Batman had placed silent alarms in Gotham Zoo. Alfred had believed it to be overkill, but Bruce did not see how that was a problem. The alarms had alerted him to a few crimes over the years but the interest in the zoo had faded from most criminals (Joker was the main exception simply because he enjoyed the animal-related puns).

So late one night, Bruce was a bit surprised when the alarms tripped. Joker was in Arkham last he checked and was not due to stage a break out for at least another month. So unless he had broken out and no one had noticed, this was something else.

But he was a little busy with tracing Scarecrow’s current location (there were some rumors of him working on a new fear toxin that he needed to either confirm or deny). It was not until an hour or two after the alarm trip Batman was able to do a quick stop by.

The guard was alive but asleep. It did not appear induced, but Batman was not going to take any chances. He hacked into the security cameras and checked that the animals were still in their cages. He did not want a repeat of the Jokerized crocodiles ( don’t ask ). Nothing appeared out of place and Batman was almost ready to call it a false alarm.

Then he heard the angry shouting.

He silently crept through the exhibits only to find his alarm trippers not even trying to hide. Just when he thought his little Birds had disappeared off the map again, here he found them. Or at least two of them.

Jason Todd and Damian were on a grass patch, circling one another, fists up. Both of them were panting and showing signs of exhaustion, but neither were backing down. Damian was looking particularly determined as he lunged forward to tackle his brother to the ground.

Jason easily stepped aside. He grabbed Damian from behind and shoved the boy against the ground, pinning the boy’s arms under grab. “I don’t think you understand self-defense.”

“I do not think you understand fighting!” Damian glared at the ground. He then knocked his head back into Jason’s face, particularly his nose. Jason’s grip slipped as his eyes filled with tears. Damian used his hands to push himself onto his back, Jason’s upper body caught under him. Damian scrambled to sit on top of the boy, but Jason was too quick. The boy rolled away from the attempted pin, hopping back to his feet.

Jason poked at his nose, which was starting to bleed. “Ya know, if that hadn’t been directed at me, I mighta been proud.”

Damian straightened up at the words, clearly pleased with himself.

“ If it hadn’t been directed at me, ya little brat,” Jason glared. “It’s called ‘sparring’ not ‘break your older brother’s nose’. Next time, just tell me what you would do to get out of the stupid hold and I would have played along.”

Damian curled in on himself at that. “I broke your nose?”

“Eh…” Jason poked it again. “No, I don’t think so. But you got close.”

“Perhaps I should take a look,” Batman finally spoke up from the shadows.

Jason and Damian both jerked back from the voice, hands up and ready to fight.

Batman stepped forward into the light, hands up in surrender. “Easy, little birds. It’s just me.”

“HOLY GOTHAM-- Don’t do that !” Jason dramatically put a hand over his heart. “You’re gonna kill someone from fright if that is how you say hello, you creep!”

Damian had lost some color in his face as he quickly yanked his hood upon his head. “Jay Bird,” he hissed, motioning to the boy's own jacket. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow as Jason pulled the hood up. ‘Note: suspects-- wait, they’re not suspects, what’s another word?-- subjects(?) use hoods to hide on purpose and are not just playing a form of dress-up. Could be hiding signs of child abuse or an attempt to keep identities secret. Reasons for the latter unknown.’

Jason was glaring at the Batman. “Are you stalking us?”

“No.”

“Then what in the name of Gotham are you doing in a clearly closed zoo?”

“Someone tripped one of my silent alarms,” Batman replied evenly. He gave both of them a look. Damian winced and Jason blushed. Batman hid a smile. They were good kids, no matter what their background was. Perhaps a little reckless and definitely had a pension for illegal activities. But good kids. “Now, how about I look at that nose?”

Jason scrunched up his face, “I’m fine, but thanks.”

“Come here and let me check it,” Batman switched from his “kid” tone to the one he used on rebellious Leaguers. Sometimes ordering was better than asking. This appeared to be the case with Jason as the kid shuffled forward, if a bit hesitant. He stopped a foot or so away.

Batman gently prodded at the nose, “Does it hurt?”

“Just a bit sore,” Jason replied. “I have broken my nose before. I know what that feels like.”

“Mmmh…” Batman poked a few more times. He reached into his belt and pulled out a cold pack. He snapped it to activate it and handed it to the boy. “Just in case, put that on your nose for half an hour. It should help with the pain.”

Jason took the pack and placed it on his nose. “Uh… thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Batman motioned around the empty zoo. “May I ask why you are here and where exactly are the other birds?”

“Robin and I couldn’t sleep,” Jason replied. “So I brought him here. He likes animals. Isn’t that right, Baby Bird?”

‘Jason Todd avoided the last question by turning the attention to the youngest. Location of Dick Grayson and Timothy Drake unknown, but most likely home. Indicates, along with many other instances, concern, and wishes of well-being for his foster brothers.’

Batman turned his gaze to Damian. “Which one is your favorite?”

Damian stared at him a moment before pointing at the nearby lion cage. Batman nodded. “Any particular reason why?

“Lions are kings of the jungle,” Damian said. “As such, they are to be respected for their power.”

Batman hid a smile, choosing to nod gravely. “And you, Jay Bird? What is your favorite animal?”

Jason, who had been focused on the ice pack and his nose, jolted in surprise at the question. “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe wolves?”

“Wolves?” Batman repeated. “Why?”

“They are a pack animal. They fight together and protect one another.” Jason shrugged. “Hence why dogs are protective of their owners.” He hesitated a moment. The next words were said quickly and quietly “I also really liked “Call of the Wild” and “White Fang” . The books, not the movies.”

Bruce made a mental note to reread both of those books. Then he questioned why he desired to do such a thing. 

‘Jason Todd shows some knowledge of literary classics. Suggests some form of formal schooling is continued in foster home, despite none of the boys being enrolled in a public school.’

“Sound reasoning, Jay Bird. Same to you, Robin.” Batman paused, making sure to keep a straight face. “I personally prefer bats.”

Jason and Damian stared at him. Batman could only imagine their thoughts right now. But their expressions were worth the comment as they debated if Batman was being serious or joking.

A clock began to chime in the distance, drawing all three to look at the zoo’s tower. Jason cursed. “Uh, sorry but we should really get going. Nightwing will kill us if we’re not back when the sun is up.”

Batman nodded acknowledgment before offering, “Would you like a ride?”

To little surprise, Jason shook his head. “No, we’re good,” Jason assured. “Come on, Robin.” Bruce did not blame the boy. Stranger danger was the one rule street kids knew and knew well.

Damian hesitantly waved goodbye at Batman and turned to follow the older boy towards the outer fence. Batman couldn’t help but call after them, “Nice fighting skills to both of you!”

Jason and Damian paused and looked back.

“But maybe keep the fighting to the professionals,” he added. Alfred would kill him if he encouraged children to punch their problems.

Jason scoffed at the statement but raised his own hand in farewell. Then the two vanished into the darkness leaving Batman alone in the zoo. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. Should he follow them home or return to the hunt for Scarecrow?

Well, they had survived this long on their own. And Scarecrow was a top priority. Besides, tonight had given him plenty of information to go over later in the cave.

Batman returned to the Batmobile and continued searching for Scarecrow. And if he happened to grabble past the Birds apartment several times for the next hour until he knew Jason and Damian had returned home safely… well, that was something he chose to leave out of the nightly report.

Chapter Text

It was Jason’s idea to go to the park for ice cream at seven o’clock at night. Damian fully supported the idea as it was his “birthday” and they had been playing cards all day inside due to the large thunderstorm that had been pouring for the past two days. It had finally let up an hour or so earlier and Dick knew if he refused, Damian wouldn’t speak to him for a month. And so, he reluctantly agreed to the escapade.

The ice-cream parlor was surprisingly empty for a Wednesday night. The owner knew them by sight and pulled up the usual in a quick and mannerly fashion. Damian with his chocolate and nut toppings, Jason and his strawberry mixed with cherries, Tim and his caramel pecan, and Dick with plain old vanilla. (“It’s a classic .” “No, it’s boring .”

Jason insisted on paying for it with his “pocket change”. Dick tried to use some plastic bottles and tin can money, but Jason brought up the upcoming fair, They were already short as it was so Dick reluctantly agreed.

Gotham City Park isn’t exactly the best idea of a “park”. On one hand, Poison Ivy kept it green and lively (even when she was in Arkham, which the residents chose not to question). On the other hand, Poison Ivy was in charge of landscaping. If you even accidentally littered, you’d find yourself tied up in vines faster than you could get off the grass. 

Unless you were a kid. Apparently, the good Doctor didn’t like people who picked on kids, despite the fact she tried to mind control Gotham's population every year or so. Jason had told Dick that he was actually on a “friendly” basis with the Rouge. She didn’t know his name or anything, but she knew his red hoodie by sight and had actually helped him out of a tough spot two years back. Now, Dick didn’t trust that “friendship” enough to say he wanted to meet Poison Ivy in the park. But he also never told Damian or Tim they couldn’t go in the park. It was an… interesting situation.

On this particular night, Ivy was still in Arkham. So Dick was pretty confident the park would remain mind-controlling spore free, at least for the next hour or so. But they still found an empty park bench near the exit. Just in case. They ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cold treat on a summer night (especially since hoodies do not help keep you cool).

“Happy Birthday, baby bird.’ Dick teased with a smile.

Damian grunted but didn’t protest, his mouth full of chocolaty goodness.

Jason finished off his cone with a loud crunch. “Should we sing to ya?”

That got a very strong reaction from the youngest. Damian shook his head hard and tried to speak with his mouth still full of ice cream. “ ‘o’t o da”

“Yeah, I didn’t get any of that,” Jason smirked and began to sing. “Happy Birthday to--”

Damian swallowed. “If you do not stop that I can guarantee you will wake up to an empty bed tomorrow.”

“You’re no fun, Robin,” Jason grumbled.

Dick rolled his eyes, “Says the boy who refuses to tell us his birthday.”

“Eh,” Jason shrugged. He nodded at Tim, who still had over half of his cone left. “You gonna eat that?”

Tim took a big bite. He narrowed his eyes at the older boy and nodded. Jason sighed loudly but did not try to steal the ice cream.

Silence fell on the group again, their focus turned on their sugary treat. The distant buildings were now just black shadows on the orange sky as the sunset. The street lights began to flick on, painting their own yellow light on the ground below. By the time they all finished, the streetlights were stronger than the distant sun.

That was the Birds cue to get off the streets and back to the apartment.

They didn’t get far when they spotted a man dressed in green from head to toe. He came sprinting through the park’s entrance and in their general direction, cackling like a maniac. It took a moment, but Dick recognized him as The Riddler.

Dick and Jason instinctively pushed Damian and Tim behind them and to the side of the sidewalk. With any luck, the man would ignore them and continue to run deeper into the park. All the same, Jason flicked open his switchblade and Dick was ready to spring into action.

Riddler didn’t even get in shouting distance to them. Something flew from the shadows and wrapped around the Riddler’s arms and legs. The ropes tangled tightly around Riddler and knocked him to the ground. By the time he was able to get free, Batman was ready to punch him out.

Apparently, the Riddler had a harder head than Dick expected because even after a Batman punch, the man began to shriek . Something about Batman not playing fair and his intelligence being inferior to his own. Batman ignored him, talking to someone in his com (most likely the Commissioner).

Jason visibly relaxed and actually put the knife away. And when Jason “I-grew-up-on-the-streets-and-don’t-trust-anyone ” Todd relaxed, Dick relaxed.

Now, this is the part of the night where Jason would grab one of the boy’s arms and drag them in the opposite direction of the Bat. Dick would follow suit with the other kid and they would sprint off into the streets to disappear without a trace. So Dick was a little confused when Jason did not do such a thing but stayed put.

The Birds remained where they were and watched as the Riddler continued to shout and scream about “higher intellect” and such.

“Bit early for the Crazies to be out,” Jason finally said to no one in particular.

Tim shrugged, “Maybe Riddler decided to get an early start or something.”

They watched Batman yank the Riddler to his feet. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt and locked them tight around the rouge’s wrists. He checked the lock, then looked up from the cuffs and Riddler. That was when he finally saw the four distant multi-colored hoodies. Batman visibly straightened up. His unblinking stare was locked on the four boys and Dick found his feet suddenly unwilling to cooperate in running away.

Dick cursed himself for not leading the charge home.

“...Should we say ‘hello’ or something?” Tim asked.

“He’s the Dark Knight! You don’t just say ‘hello’ to the freakin'  Ba,” Jason answered.

It was Damian who moved first-- but in the wrong direction. He practically marched towards the Dark Knight and the still raving mad man. None of the other Birds processed what he was doing until the boy was only a few feet away from the vigilante and villain. Jason and Dick took off running within the same second, Tim close behind.

Batman straightened up even more and appeared to double-check the handcuffs were secure.

Riddler was still ranting, “How dare you, Dark Knight, ruin my brilliant plans before they can even begin! You cheated! My knowledge and intellect are far superior to yours! Always has been, always will be!”

Damian snorted loudly.

Riddler looked over, clearly surprised at the sudden appearance of a child in a gray sweatshirt. “What do you find so amusing, inferior child?” he demanded with narrowed eyes.

Jason and Dick came to a halt behind Damian. They shared a look, with the first looking amused and the latter looking mortified.

Damian’s hair stood on end, his fists clenching at his sides. “Inferior? Inferior ? The only ‘inferior’ person here is you .”

Dick stepped forward and tried to pull Damian back. No need to bring even more attention to this already bad situation. “Alright, Robin, leave the criminal alone.”

Damian ignored him. As usual. “You claim to have higher intellect, you claim to be better, but look who is wearing the cuffs!”

“He cheats-!”

“AH!” Damian held up his hands, “If you were so much ‘higher and mightier’ you would have anticipated every move, every word, every breath Batman took before he caught you. But you did not. So, shut up and let the adults talk.” He then turned to Batman and gave a polite nod, “Good evening, Batman. I see you’re already at work tonight clearing Gotham of its filth .”

Batman’s mouth was hanging slightly open as he stared at Damian, who had left Enigma speechless for a moment, a rare feat indeed. Jason was trying to smother his laughter into his jacket sleeve, along with Tim who looked like he was trying not to smile. Dick just sighed, exasperated, to the heavens above.

Unfortunately, Riddler found his voice, “You are inferior, puny Robin! I can prove it!”

“With what, a riddle ?” Damian rolled his eyes. “Please, your riddles aren’t even that difficult.”

“Oh, really?” Riddler smirked. "Then riddle me this: I can fill a room or just one heart. Others may have me but I cannot be shared. What am I?" 

Damian didn’t move for a moment. Then he crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. “Loneliness, you little-”

“Robin!” Dick interrupted quickly. “How about we just go home?”

“Not until this man admits he is the “ inferior” one.” Damian spat.

Riddler was blinking quickly and eyes wide, not even trying to hide the surprise on his face. It turned sour quickly. “Lucky guess, Robin. Let us go again.”

Damian shook his head, “No. I won. Test yourself on one of them.”

Batman finally interjected, “Robin, it would be best if-”

“Don’t interrupt, Dark Knight.” Riddler snapped. “Allow me to prove to this insolent child that I am superior.”

Dick wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Batman lifting the Riddler to his feet, then facing the Birds. “Very well.”

Riddler looked pleased as he addressed the four boys. “I live for laughter, I live for the crowd, for without either, I am nothing. What am I?”

Jason and Tim shared a look of confusion. Damian remained passive as ever, his hood covering any emotion that might have flickered. The silence stretched for a few more seconds before Dick spoke up, “The circus.”

Riddler’s smile shrank a little. “Another lucky guess.” His smug expression returned and the next riddle was given, “I am everywhere, but you can’t see me. When you say my name, I am gone. What am I?”

Dick frowned. Jason scratched his head. Damian didn’t move.

“Quiet,” Tim mumbled after a moment.

A flash of anger flared across Riddler’s face. He scowled, “What is unwanted and eternal, though for some people, an escape?”

Jason answered this time with little hesitation. “Death.”

Enigma growled, “You are cheating somehow!”

“How?” Damian demanded, “We cannot look them up or anything.”

“Quiet you-” Riddler found his voice cut off as Batman covered his mouth and yanked him back, away from The Birds.

“Shut up, Enigma,” he caught Damian’s eye and the boy could have sworn he saw a smile flick across his face. “The adults are talking.”

The Riddler was now properly tied up, hanging upside down from a lamppost. Perhaps not needed, but certainly deserved. Batman had also gagged him because no one deserved to listen to Enigma screaming insults. The police sirens were on the horizon, which meant Bats had about five minutes to make himself scarce.

And so did the Birds.

"Come," Batman ordered. He spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction of the sirens and screeching Riddler, towards the back exit of the park. He risked a glance behind him and was pleasantly surprised to find Robin following him. Jay was close behind, his pipe back out of his bag, but held loosely. Crow was right on Jay's heels, clearly wanting to join Robin near the front, but holding back for unknown reasons. Nightwing trailed last, his movements stiff and guarded. He was the eldest after all and should be the most cautious. Bruce was surprised it wasn’t Jason in the back.

If Bruce could have, he would have clapped for joy. But he kept his stoic face and continued onward. He finally stopped on the sidewalk, just outside the park wall.

The boys stopped a bit behind him but made no movement to bolt.

Another victory. Time to see how much they actually trusted him.

“You four have a nasty habit of running into me,” Batman said with a hidden smile. He kept his back to the group and made a show of pulling up old security footage. Riddler had been quite busy this afternoon, preparing for an evening battle of wits. Too bad that Batman’s facial recognition software gave the Bat a heads up. But he still would double-check the footage for any sort of clue or slip of paper Enigma might have left behind.

There was always another game with him.

There was a pause for a moment. “We’re not following you. Honest.” Nightwing said rather quickly. “We were out getting a treat.”

“It’s Robin’s birthday,” Crow piped up.

Batman stopped looking at his security footage and turned slowly to the group. “Is that so?” He kept his tone even, hiding the small victory. A fact to add to the report! 

Robin rolled his eyes, “It’s not really my birthday. 364 to 1. Wing just likes to ‘celebrate’ it.”

Bruce was really going to have to go home and have some of Alfred’s cookies or something. He already knew Damian did not have an official birthday, but they did not know he knew that. That was two pieces of willing information without holding someone over a building. Not that he would ever do that to a child.

“Everyone needs a birthday, baby bird,” Nightwing tried to hug him, but Robin ducked down and growled his protest at the name.

Batman turned away to hide a smile and checked at how far the cops were. Three minutes, if his experience was anything to go off of. “Well, happy birthday, Robin. How old are you turning?” He was not expecting an answer.

He got one. “Somewhere between eight and nine… at least, that’s what most people think.”

“Not quite to double digits, but soon enough.” Batman nodded slowly. He now wished he had grabbed some of the previously mentioned cookies. The butler had just made some for a charity pot-luck earlier in the day and Bruce had been tempted to grab some for the road. Perhaps he had a stick of gum or something in his belt. He quickly checked while he apologized for the Riddler’s appearance. “He always enjoys ruining a good evening.”

Robin shrugged, “It was much more exciting than the card games Wing was having us play all day.”

Batman didn’t find any gum or any other sweet edible. In fact, the only ‘edible’ he had was a pill of the antidote to Joker gas.

‘Note to self: add gum compartment to the belt.’

Oh well, a Batarang would have to do. He pulled out a blunt one and double-checked it wasn’t a trap or involved electricity before handing it over to Robin. “Here. Don’t use it on anyone or I’ll take it back.”

Robin examined the object as Crow was practically bouncing with excitement behind him, trying to get a closer look. “What if a person is particularly annoying me?”

“No.” Wing and Batman said at the same time.

“What if someone is trying to harm me?”

“Well…” Wing trailed off.

Batman almost chuckled, “Be my guest, but I hope it never comes to that.” He paused, cocked his head to the side, and listened to the sirens again. Approximately thirty seconds, which meant his time was now up. “Fly home, little birds. It’s getting late.”

All four chimed “Yes, Batman,” then sprinted down the street and into an alley. Batman aimed his grapple at a nearby skyscraper and launched it into the sky. He flew up and into the night, disappearing to anyone who was watching very quickly. He waited on top of the building a moment before flying in the direction of the Birds apartment. Patrol could wait a little longer. First, he’d make sure the four had no trouble getting back. Then he would stop by the manor and get a bag of cookies. He’d leave them in the dumpster outside their window or something. One of them would hopefully find it there in the morning and take them inside and no one would be the wiser.

Casefile: The Birds

Suspects Subjects:
Dick Grayson AKA “ Nightwing ”
Jason Todd AKA “ Jay Bird ”
Timothy Drake AKA “ Crow ”
Damian AKA “ Robin ”

Status: In progress

Opened: June 19th 20XX:

Closed: N/A

Reports:
June 19th- The Wharf
June 27th- (Robin) Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway
July 13th- Two-Face Bank Robbery
July 30th- (Civilian Interaction) Vreeland Charity Ball
August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin) Gotham Public Zoo
August 21st- Riddler, Gotham Park
→open report←

Riddler (full report) attempted to “stump” all four of the Birds with a riddle. All four correctly identified the answer. Reason the four were in the park: Robin’s “unofficial” birthday. All had ice cream and there was no hint of subterfuge in their actions or words.They revealed more personal information as well without the need to dig. Both actions indicate a growing trust towards Batman. Will continue to work on finding the truth of their living situation.
Roman James was nowhere in sight, nor showed any indication that the boys were even gone when observed later in the evening.
→end report←  

Known affiliates: Roman James , foster parent. May James , foster worker.

Attached Evidence:
Security Footage , June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf
Security Footage , July 13th, Gotham City Bank
Security Footage , August 16th, Gotham Public Zoo

Attached Files and Reports:
Social Services, Dick Grayson
Autopsy Report, John and Mary Grayson
Accident Report, John and Mary Grayson
“The Flying Graysons” archive footage
1990-1992
1993-1995
1996-1999
2000-2002
2003-20XX
“Farwell Performance of the Flying Graysons”
Social Services, Jason Todd
Criminal Record, Willis Todd
Arrest Records, Willis Todd
Court Record, Willis Todd
Arrest Record, Cathrine Todd
Health Records, Cathrine Todd
Autopsy Report, Catherine Todd
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Catherine Todd
Social Services, Timothy Drake
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Janet Drake
Health Records, Janet Drake
Funeral Program, Janet Drake
Robbery Report, Drake Manor
Autopsy Report, Jack Drake
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Jack Drake
Social Services, Damian
Health Record, Damian
Department of Washington State Records, Damian

Chapter Text

Every year, in the fourth week of August, Gotham threw a street fair. It was “simple” in the sense of it was mostly raffles, rigged games, and a bit of showboating from some of the big companies in the city. It was mostly a chance for some advertising or an excuse for tourism increase just before school started up again. At least, that was what Tim said.

It was also a popular event that Gotham’s Rogues loved to crash on a yearly basis because nothing in Gotham can be that simple.

And yet there they were, standing in line to buy tickets on the first day it opened. Damian was trying to peer over the people in front of them to see how long the line was. Dick assured him it wouldn’t be long as Jason tapped his foot impatiently.

“Can this line get moving?” He demanded.

Dick rolled his eyes, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Actually, yes. I do.”

“Let me guess,” Damian smirked, “The rigged milk bottle game?”

Jason glared at him, “I’m going to win that whistle and there is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

Tim frowned. “What whistle?”

Dick playfully nudged Jason, “Every year, Jason tries to win this silver whistle from a carnival game we all know is rigged.”

Jason glared at the other three, “I didn’t get to try last year! Don’t judge me!”

Tim bit his lip and looked down at the sidewalk, tightening his grip on his bag. 

Last year, Tim had arrived at Roman’s a few weeks before the fair and hadn’t spoken for a least a month. Dick had insisted that all of them stay home from the fair when Tim had refused to go. Jason and Damian hadn’t been happy but had complied (although Jason had broken into four cars that day in rebellion).

Dick must have sensed his guilt because he took Tim’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”

Tim gave a small smile. “Honestly, I’m here for the experimental tech expose. My… father used to bring me every year.”

Dick squeezed his hand again. “Sounds like fun, Timmy.” He lowered his voice, “If you need someone with you, I’m happy to come. We all have our… triggers. I have to avoid peanut vendors. Every time I get a sniff of them my brain goes back to the circus.”

Tim smiled and squeezed Dick’s hand back, then pulled free. The message was clear, ‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’

Damian let out a sigh of relief, “Finally!” They had arrived at the front of the line. Dick stepped forward with a few bills in his hands. The vendor handed back the number of tickets and waved them on.

This year, they had enough money for everyone to get three tickets-- much to Jason’s annoyance. “Come on, Wing. Three? We usually get at least five!”

Dick cleared his throat loudly and motioned vaguely in the direction of Tim. The message was silent, but clear: “There’s more of us and money is tight as is. Deal with it.”

Tim, too bright for his own good, blushed bright red, tore one of his tickets off the strand, and shoved the other two into Jason’s hands before running into the crowd. 

Dick glared at Jason. “We’ll talk later.” He then dashed after Tim.

Jason stared at the five tickets in his hands and felt a surge of guilt. “Here, Damian.” He pushed Tim’s tickets into the youngest’s hands. Damian looked surprised but didn’t say anything, sliding them into his pockets.

“Uh… you know where I’ll be.” Jason shoved his hands in his pockets then pushed his way through the crowd towards the carnival games, leaving Damian standing by the entrance. Probably not the best idea, especially with Dick already mad at him, but he needed to think.

After he got out of sight of Damian he pushed his fingers into his hair and groaned. “Stupid Jason, that was stupid!” He kicked a rock on the ground in frustration and lost it among the moving figures.

If Jason was being honest with himself (and that was a rarity), he knew he was a bad brother. Like, a really bad brother. He stole things, encouraged breaking rules and not getting caught, lied like no tomorrow, and angered quickly. Not exactly “good example” material. When it had just been him, or even him and Damian, life had been simple. Damian minded his own business and Jason just did what he normally did. Broke into people’s homes and cars and stole stuff.

Then Golden Boy Richard came around. When Jason had first met Dick, he was not what he expected. For one, Dick’s parents had just died. He was expecting to get a kid who was so depressed that he wouldn’t leave his room. Instead, Dick cried maybe twice then moved on. He started to try and make the two of them smile, take them out for ice cream, would randomly hug them in the middle of the day, and tell them how much he cared for them. Most of the time, Jason just ignored it and had ignored it for the first two weeks.

Then Golden boy found out about his pickpocketing and he suddenly became a ‘responsible’ brother or something and for his first time in his life, Jason was being disciplined.

And he didn’t mean the beatings his father used to give him when he talked back. Dick would lecture him. He would raise his voice and say how disappointed he was in Jason and how Jason could do better than this and how Damian deserved better and blah, blah, blah .

And you know the worst part? It actually got to him. True, Jason still snuck out at night and still broke into places, but at least he had cut back on the actual stealing. Yes, he still broke into mansions and touched all of the expensive stuff. But his "criminal activities," as Dick called them, had dropped since the lecturing started. And Jason had no idea why he listened to them.

Of course, Jason was also the only one who knew the whole ‘sunshine’ routine was (at least partially) an act. Yes, Dick smiled, cracked jokes, and told silly stories to them before tucking them in at night (well, tucking Tim in at night. Damian hated it and Jason dared Dick to try it and he’d find a black eye in the morning).

Maybe if he was a better, more responsible, and more law-abiding brother then Dick wouldn’t have started his “parkour adventures” as the idiot called them. Jason liked to call them “death wishes”. 

Dick must have rubbed off on him or something because the first time Jason saw Dick jump off the side of a building and freefall for much too long, he had practically wrung the kids’ neck. Because if Dick died… well, Jason wasn’t sure what he’d do. He didn’t know what actual guardianship looked like! His father had been a crook and his mother an addict. That isn’t exactly a healthy example! He left most of the “parenting” skills to Dick. If something happened to Dick, then Damian would be left with just Jason. Not a good idea.

(It had nothing to do with the fact that Jason actually cared about the responsible jerk. Nothing at all.)

When Tim had come along three years later, Jason had suddenly realized he wasn’t the middle child anymore. He couldn’t just sit back and do nothing- two kids were too much for Dick to handle alone. He was only twelve (barely eleven when Tim showed up). No, that job now went to Timmy. 

He’d been… replaced . That sounded stupid, and deep down inside he knew that wasn’t true. But he had lost his place as the middle kid. Now he was the second in command, so to speak. True, he had always been ‘second’ and he still was, but… it was different. And he hated it.

Even after a year, he still hated it, albeit not as much. Tim had proven to be a smart kid and Jason had grown to care for his geeky brother, but now things seemed more complicated. Now they had to make sure there was enough food for four, enough clothing for four, enough blankets for four. Adding another person had upped Dick’s stress, which meant more jumping. And when Dick jumped, Jason needed to go break into something. And when Jason broke into something, Dick needed to jump. The cycle was in a loop and Jason didn’t know what to do.

He once thought of going straight, and he had tried for a week. Honest . But that week had been boring for him and stomachs growled more often from lack of food (he did bring home goodies with any money he had taken off the rich snobs on the street and without it, Jason realized how little Roman actually fed them).

He shoved all those thoughts away. Today was Fair day. It was supposed to be fun. Which meant trying to win at the stupid rigged games; particularly, one.

Jason honestly couldn’t remember when it started. He had a vague memory of his father and mother taking him to the fair for the first time at the age of three, but the years that followed only mom had come. He might have been five or six when he first found the booth- and the silver whistle.

The object of the game was simple- knock over a bunch of milk bottles and win the prize. The actual practice of it? Not so simple. At first, he hadn’t been strong enough to hit the far tower. Then, he had to learn how to aim. When he was finally eight, he hit the back tower for the first time.

And that was when he found out the game was rigged. The man in charge, a short fat man called Wilson, just chuckled and told him tough luck. And thus, the rivalry began. Wilson was either amused or annoyed at his yearly try, Jason could never tell, but he never verbally complained. It meant more money to him at the end of the day anyway. And after six years, Jason didn’t even care about the whistle anymore. It was about the principle- no one cheated him out of anything.

Jason didn’t say a word when he slammed all his tickets down on the counter. He just glared at Wilson who gave a crooked grin. “Three rounds, three balls. Knock down each tower for a prize from the top shelf. Good luck, kid.”

The first throw hit the nearest tower, which fell to the ground. The next stack fell only a few seconds later. Jason then hurled his last ball as hard as he could at the last one, losing accuracy in favor of power. It missed, but only by a few inches.

Wilson set up the front two and Jason repeated the process. This time, he managed to nick the top bottle, but to no surprise, it didn’t even waver. On the final try, Jason finally nailed the tower in the center.

He was rewarded with the baseball bouncing harmlessly off and leaving it standing. Jason glared at Wilson, who was gazing off into the distance extremely bored.

“Come on! Just give me the stupid whistle!”

“No can-do kid. You can take three small prizes though.”

Jason slammed his fist on the counter and leaned forward, “I don’t want the freaking stuffed animals!”

“Too bad.”

Jason pressed his hands into his face and felt the urge to punch something or scream. Or maybe both. He would have stolen the stupid whistle by now except it was hanging in the back of the booth above the cursed immoveable bottles. If he slugged Wilson then he’d be able to just jump over the counter and grab the stupid thing, but then the cheat would call security and the last thing he needed was trouble with the cops. Dick would kill him for it.

Although the smirk Wilson was giving him was making him think twice. Before he could make up his mind a deep but gentle voice spoke from behind.

“Excuse me, but may I have a go?”

Jason’s eyes flew open and he whirled around to find himself facing none other than Mr. Billionaire Wayne himself- albeit in a baseball hat and sunglasses, which Jason always thought was a poor excuse for a disguise.

Wilson shrugged. “Got a ticket?” He either didn’t recognize the billionaire or didn’t care who he was.

Wayne nodded and placed it on the counter, which was swiped up faster than you could blink. Wilson handed the man three balls.

In quick succession, Wayne knocked down the first two towers then paused. He fingered the last ball and wound up the pitch before sending it off at a speed that Jason would have never expected from a spoiled rich kid. The ball smashed into the back tower, shattered the bottles and went straight through the back of the tent.

Wilson had taken the moment to take a sip of soda and was rewarded with coughing it back up out his nose. Jason felt no sympathy as the cheat sputtered and coughed.

Wayne pulled off his sunglasses and leaned against the wooden counter, “Now, Mr. Wilson, I can tolerate most businessmen. What I cannot tolerate, is liars.” Wayne pointed at the box of tickets and the refills of little prizes at Wilson’s feet, “If you cannot afford to give away the large prizes, then don’t offer them.”

Wilson must have recognized Wayne at that moment and the color drained out of his face, “Mr. Wayne, I must apologize. I-”

“Save it.” Wayne snapped, effectively ending any hope of a compromise. “I want you to leave your booth here, Mr. Wilson, and leave the fair. I will call one of my employees to run it for you- in a fair way. Whatever is here at the end of the day, you can take home. Am I understood?”

Wilson nodded, scooped up his soda and fries, then dashed away. 

Jason snorted to himself. The man obviously had no spine. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he quickly pulled away, spinning around ready to fight or run.

Bruce Wayne held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you… Jay isn’t it?”

“Uh…” Jason stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. It was a position that appeased his father, as Jason couldn’t hit back if his hands were stuffed away. He had never quite broken the habit even after all these years. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“You were outside of the charity ball, were you not?” Wayne replied, a small smile appearing on his face. “I take it your family is here at the fair, enjoying the events?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason said.

Wayne nodded then motioned at the booth, “Would you like another go- this time with a chance of winning?”

“I’m out of tickets.” Jason pointed out.

Wayne shrugged, “Consider it on the house. I do fund most of the games.” The man went around the counter and replaced all of the bottles, then placed three baseballs on the counter. He pointed at the far tower, his expression stoic. “That one shouldn’t be any trouble to you now.”

Three throws later and Jason found himself holding the whistle he had been staring at for as long as he could remember. It was smooth and thin, about five inches long. The sound was louder than he expected and sharper. Not bad- for a carnival game.

Mr. Wayne seemed to agree, letting out a low whistle. “I see why you wanted it.”

Jason slipped the prize around his neck and into his hoodie. “I didn’t need your help, Mr. Wayne.”

“You’re right, you didn’t.” Bruce smiled again. “But it is never a bad thing to receive some.”

Jason frowned, not understanding, but nodded politely all the same. “Whatever you say.”

Bruce motioned at the small prizes, “Anything else stand out to you? I think I overheard Wilson say you could take three?”

At first, Jason was going to refuse, but then he saw the stuffed bird and the notepad. The bird was cheaply made and the stitching was already coming loose, but Damian would like it all the same. The pad was plain, just a red cover, and rather small, but Tim was always scribbling on napkins and other scraps of paper from the trash. The kid needed a notebook. He scooped them up into his backpack without a word.

Bruce chuckled to himself, “If that’s all, Jay, I need to call someone to take over the booth.” He pulled out a cell phone and Jason took that as his cue to leave.

Besides, he had somewhere to be anyway. He needed to find a certain brother to whom he owed an apology.

Dick was going to kill Jason the next time he saw him. Tim was gone and Dick had no idea where the kid had run off to. He had already checked the tech expo and was now wandering around the petting zoo, which was where he found Damian, to no surprise.

Add ‘abandoning Damian’ to the lecture. Not that Damian minded being left alone. He claimed to enjoy it, but Dick always saw that small flash of relief that shone in the kid’s eyes when he was found. Nor did he miss the joy that momentarily shone through when Dick insisted on staying with him at the zoo.

It took two tickets to get in, but Dick honestly didn’t care. His tickets generally went towards food products anyway, since Jason always wasted his on that rigged game and was hangry by one in the afternoon. 

Dick ended up leaning against the fences and watched Damian pet all of the animals (which he had either named or learned their names).

It was strange to watch the usually angry and resentful child smile and gently talk to his ‘friends’. Although, it did make sense in some weird way. Damian had often been referred to by Roman as an animal- especially when he was younger. Dick didn’t even want to think about how a two-year-old boy had survived for two years on his own before Jason arrived. And Jason hadn’t been much better than Roman. It was another three months before Dick came around and another week before he had realized the boy had never been properly cared for in his life.

Then his life was suddenly taken up by taking care of two, now three, boys younger than him. He quickly learned that not everything his parents did for him worked for other kids. He also started to understand what his mother meant when she said, “When you have kids, you’ll understand why we do what we do.” True, Dick wasn’t their actual parent--

But he was the closest thing they had to one.

Damian had moved from the sheep to the goats and was offering them some tin can he had dug out of a trashcan to them when Dick saw it. His heart stopped for a brief second and he could only stare at the vendor cart as it pushed its way through the crowd, eyes fixed on one item- or more specifically, the name on it.

Confusion filled his mind. How the heck did a Haley’s Circus t-shirt even get to a Gotham street fair? There was no time to think about it now, the cart was rolling out of sight and Dick vaulted over the fence without a second thought. He didn’t catch the vendor until the food court and it was only then he realized he had left Damian alone. 

Again .

Delete ‘abandoning Damian’ from the lecture topic list for Jason.

Too late to turn back he approached the vendor and pointed at the old shirt, “How much for that?”

The woman looked a little surprised at the selection and actually had to look at the item’s tag. “Three tickets.”

Dick almost cursed but managed to bite his tongue. “Thank you for your time.” Sullen and a bit disappointed, he turned away and began to head back towards the petting zoo.

He only walked a few steps when he bumped into someone and mumbled an apology, not even looking up.

“Well now, that’s quite alright,” a soft voice responded.

It sounded familiar and Dick was shocked to find Bruce flippin’ Wayne standing in front of him in a t-shirt and jeans- not at all what Dick expected a billionaire to walk around in, even on weekends.

Mr. Wayne looked over his head at something, then back down at Dick, his smile kind. “Hello, again.”

“I think you have mistaken me for someone else, sir,” Dick blushed.

“No, I don’t think so. You and your brothers were given food by the guard… Antonio, right?”

Uh… okay, that wasn’t creepy at all that Mr. Wayne remembered a bunch of random kids from a party. Not .

“Were you looking at something on that cart?”

Dick shook his head quickly. “Oh, just window shopping. I should probably get back to Robby--”

Mr. Wayne had turned his attention to the cart. Something in his expression changed, his bright smile dying. “Oh…”

Dick felt his heartbeat pick up and he took a careful step away from the man.

Mr. Wayne looked back at Dick, the smile coming back but much smaller. “I apologize, young one. I was… caught off guard.”

‘Yeah, me too.’ Dick thought to himself. 

“I was planning on attending the Grayson’s performance that night,” Mr. Wayne suddenly said. “I’m afraid office trouble held me back and by the time I was on my way…” his voice died. 

Dick froze in place, his thoughts slowing to a crawl. Mr. Wayne would have been in the audience that night? He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the memories of screams and blood.

Mr. Wayne said something to him, but Dick didn’t hear it.  He was too busy trying to breathe. His voice was distant and muffled, along with everything else. Deep breaths, Dick… deep breaths…  

He was not sure how much time passed but someone lifted Dick’s shaking hands from his sides. Dick’s eyes snapped open to find Mr. Wayne, holding a folded up Haley’s Circus shirt. “I believe you should have this.”

Dick couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the old logo, too shocked to understand how this had fallen into his possession. “Wh-What?” He managed to stammer out.

Mr. Wayne did not respond immediately. He pressed the shirt into Dick’s hands. “I think you know… Richard.”

Dick’s eyes grew wide and he backed away quickly, clutching the shirt. How did Mr. Wayne know who he was?

Mr. Wayne put his hands up in a placating manner. “I know this does not mean much but I am sorry for your loss. But I do understand it, better than most.”

And suddenly Dick remembered the very well-known story of the Wayne tragedy. He almost smacked himself. Of course, Mr. Wayne knew who he was! The man had been planning on being at the show! Dick had learned everything he could about the Waynes’ murders after his own parents' deaths, simply out of pure curiosity. He had looked into the trial and eventual murder of the killer and had learned about what happened to the orphaned child in great detail. If in his future, he was at or going to be at an event that involved two parents’ deaths and an orphaned child, Dick would definitely look into it.

So was it a little creepy that Mr. Wayne knew who he was? Yes. But did it make sense in the circumstances? Absolutely.

Dick rubbed his dry eyes, determined not to cry. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Richard,” Mr. Wayne gave a small smile. “I hope our paths cross again in the future. Stay safe… or as safe as you can here in Gotham.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have a good day.” And with that, the billionaire was gone.

Tim hid under the demonstration table for twenty minutes before he deemed it safe to come out. The last thing he wanted from Dick was another conversation, reassuring that he had a spot in the family.

He didn’t know if he could smile and lie his way through one more of them.

It wasn’t his fault that social services had sent him to Roman’s and disrupted the other’s way of life. Dick had tried to make him feel welcome and wanted- and he had to a certain extent. But there was only so much you could do.

Damian, Jason, and Dick had been together for three years when Tim had come along and messed up the dynamic. Jason had made very clear his feelings about Tim when the boy had locked him out on the fire escape the second night. Tim had been too frightened to even tap on the glass and tried to make himself comfortable on the hard metal floor and railing.

Dick hadn’t been happy the next morning when he found him asleep and shivering on the balcony. True, Jason had apologized a month later, but the message had been clear. You are not wanted. It was the reason Tim usually kept his mouth shut, although he found it extremely difficult. If he didn’t say a word, then the three of them could just forget he existed.

His father had loved to hear him talk about his day, what he had learned, and his thoughts on events around him. Tim had been a very chatty boy- at least until he found his dad lying in a pool of his own blood. That had chased the chatter away. It had taken Dick about a month for Tim to speak and it had only been a single word.

Dick had been trying to find a name to call Tim when the four of them were on the streets. They had used this tradition for years, partially because they found it fun and partially because they wouldn’t trace it back to Roman. The other three had bird-related names and Dick had opened up the old bird encyclopedia and was trying to get Tim to pick one.

He had suggested names like “Parrot” or “Owl”, but Tim had rejected all of them. He had then taken the book out of Dick’s hands and turned it to a page and pointed at the bird of choice.

“Crow?” Dick had asked, clearly skeptical.

“Crow.” Tim had affirmed. That was the first word of few to come.

Tim had since read the entire bird encyclopedia a least a dozen times (it was one of the only books available to them at Roman’s) and grown to enjoy the other boys. But part of him knew he was not wanted.

The boy climbed out from under the table and straightened up. He checked the surrounding area and after he found no sign of any blue, red, or gray hoodies, he allowed himself to relax and turn his thoughts to the technology on the tables around him.

Most of it was the latest models of phones, tablets, computers, and televisions that Wayne Industries was currently selling to the public. Tim gave them half-hearted attention. If his father was still alive, he had no doubt that he would have owned most of them and had already mastered the technology and systems on each and every one. The Drake’s had been well off and, despite his mother’s tragic death when he was a little more than three, happy together. Father had encouraged his growing mind and curiosity, patiently enduring the fun facts Tim constantly spouted off, after having read them from somewhere or other.

Tim couldn’t think of a day that had gone by that he hadn’t thought of his father, at least once.

The far table was the one that beckoned him. It was that one that displayed the experimental tech Wayne Industries was hoping to one-day mass produce. There were holographic watches, hovering skateboards, smaller and faster phones, thinner laptops, you name it. And Tim absolutely drooled over each and every one of them.

He was trying to get a closer look at an experimental holographic map when a voice came from behind, “Want to see it in action?”

Tim froze in place and tried to calm his pounding heart. Holy Batman, Bruce Wayne was behind him. Keep it together, don’t panic Tim. You got this. He slowly turned around and looked up at his idol and let out the air in his lungs. His mouth opened but no sound came out to his horror.

Bruce chuckled lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes. Lucius!” He called out.

Tim had to take another deep breath as the Lucius Fox came over. “Yes, Mister Wayne?”

“Could you demonstrate the hologram for my young friend here?” Bruce asked, gently patting Tim on the shoulder.

Tim bit on his lip and tried to take another deep breath, but found he forgot how to do so.

“Of course,” Mr. Fox smiled down at Tim and fiddled with the said device until a dim flickering blue light appeared, showing a 3D rendering of Wayne towers. “This prototype took over 150 million dollars to produce. We are working on a technique to reduce the price to be affordable to the general public, but it will take many years.” He pressed a few more buttons and the light flickered from blue to red, “It is available in seven different colors including blue, red, green, white, pink, yellow, and lavender.”

Tim watched as Lucius showed all the colors, then returned back to the standard blue. Lucius turned the projection off and gave a polite smile, “I would love to show you more, but I’m afraid I am needed elsewhere.”

“Thanks, Lucius.” Bruce shook his friends’ hand before turning back to the gaping Tim. “Any questions?”

Tim blinked once. Then twice. Then the words came gushing out in a waterfall. “How many circuits does it have? What is the battery source? Do you use lithium-ion? Or maybe solar? How can you see the hologram in broad daylight? When did you start development on it? When do you think it will be finished? Why does it cost so much? What are your plans for it? How-”

“Easy, kiddo!” Bruce laughed. “One question at a time.”

Tim blushed bright red and looked down at his shoes. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s alright, kiddo. Now, what was the first question?”

Tim frowned and tried to remember, now feeling rather embarrassed. He stumbled through the next words and Mr. Wayne responded kindly. Over the next hour, Tim wandered around the tables and asked Mr. Wayne any questions he had, growing more confident with each question. Mr. Wayne answered each to the best of his abilities and would call over one of his employees when needed (which wasn’t often).

Mr. Wayne finally looked down at his watch and apologized. “I am afraid I must be off. The ladies in charge of the drawing want me to draw the winners and the final drawing is in ten minutes. But I very much enjoyed our conversation.” He pulled a very expensive-looking pen out of his pocket and handed it to the young boy. “You have quite a mind. Write down your ideas and maybe one day I will be working for you.” He paused, “I very much enjoyed our conversation.”

Tim managed not to drop the gift and speak without a stutter. “I did too, Mr. Wayne! Thank you! Thank you very much!”

“My pleasure,” Bruce shook the boy’s hand then headed off to his next destination, leaving a star-stuck boy in his wake.

Tim watched him go until the man disappeared into the crowd, the giddy feeling not quite fading.

Holy Bruce Wayne, he had just spent the last hour with Batman.

When Grayson had suddenly vanished, Damian tried not to be angry.

And he did a pretty good job if he did say so himself. He finished petting all of his friends and told them he’d see them all next year, then exited calmly out the back gate into the large crowd of people.

He headed towards the Tech expose after a moment of hesitation, hoping he’d find Drake. He only made it halfway there when he found the silent auction table and raffle drawing section. Drake now forgotten, Damian started to weave through the offered prizes and donations to see if there was anything useful.

Most things Damian considered lame or childish, such as the picnic basket or the life-size Barbie doll. Other things might be useful to others, but he found little interest in, like the lawnmower or the new iron. The grand prize was a new car, which he admitted was cool, but would be unable to keep it in any case. Besides, everyone wanted the car.

No, one of the smaller prizes would be easier to win. As such, Damian turned his back on the flashing lights and loud-voiced announcers to the table in the far corner.

Small toys, gadgets, and five to fifty-dollar gift cards littered the table with little to no organization. The cooking utensils were next to the cheap earbuds which were next to the official Wayne Enterprises bumper sticker. Nice .

Damian ignored the physical prizes (like most people) and headed straight to the gift cards. They had fancy restaurants, toy stores, general stores, amusement parks, you name it. The name of the local theater drew his attention and thoughts.

A little over a year ago, Grayson had talked about wanting to take their little ‘family’ to the movies. He, himself, had never gone as a child due to a tight rehearsal and traveling schedule. Todd had also never had the experience since most of his parent’s money went towards their various addictions. And Damian… well, there was no explanation needed for him. No one had ever offered to take him to such a place. When Drake had arrived, Grayson’s attention had diverted towards their mentally scarred new arrival and the subject had dropped.

But Damian had never forgotten it.

He fingered his three little tickets for several minutes. The odds were against him- most people devoted at least ten tickets for a chance of winning and there were hundreds of attendees. Who knew how many people wanted the same thing as him. He would have better luck throwing his lot in with the stupid bumper sticker. And if he wasted his tickets on this, he wouldn’t have anything to get lunch or a snack. Or get back in the petting zoo.

Damian looked at the table, then back towards the animals. Table, animals, table, animals, table, animals, card, animals, movies, animals- ugh!

Before he changed his mind, he marched up to the lady at the table and threw his tickets down. “Three for the movie theater gift card… please.” Grayson had always stressed the importance of being polite and Damian had found people were kinder and easier to manipulate if you spoke as such.

“Name?”

“Damian.”

The woman scribbled something down then looked back at him. “...and your last name?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down the surge of emotions that swirled up. Most people had a second name. It gave them an identity- like where their ancestors had originated, or their family’s occupation, if they had impacted history in a meaningful way, what or who you were meant to live up to.

All he had was ‘Damian’. Devil . What kind of person would name their child that? Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

The woman was still waiting, her fingers tapping impatiently. Apparently, manners had no effect on her. “It’s a simple question.”

“... Bird.”

She scribbled down the name and took his tickets, writing a number on the back of each then dropped them in the jar for the gift card. Damian watched them flutter then vanish inside.

“Your number is 0906.”

Damian took the slip of paper without a word and retreated to the folding chairs in the center of the square. The stage was where the winning numbers would be read in a few hours. Now all that was left to do was wait. Something he had a lot of practice in. He sat down in the front row, pressed his feet into the ground, leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, and closed his eyes.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, deep breath out…

Very, very slowly, Damian’s senses sharpened and branched out. He could feel the vibrations of the ground as children ran to the next game or activity and adults hurried after them. Snippets of nearby conversations filtered through his ears as they moved in and out of earshot.

“...bank will be closing soon…”

“...and she said that her boyfriend…”

“...illy! Stay with mommy!...”

“...what a piece of…”

The wind carried smells of popcorn and cotton candy to him. Caramel corn and blue razzberry to be exact. Coming from a vendor cart about ten feet to his right. He heard the vendor call out his prices only a few moments later.

Breathe in, breathe out…

Someone over to his right was arguing with his wife. Based on the conversation and the especially hard vibrations Damian assumed the man had been caught indulging in his unhealthy eating habits. Again.

In… out…

Behind him, someone was breathing hard and the smell of sweat and a tint of blood hit Damian’s nostrils. Track runner who had entered the yearly track and field event. Must have tripped and scraped his hands and knees. He had still gotten back up and continued the race, and Damian could respect that. The man’s heart still pounded in his chest from the exertion.

In… ou-

“ Altarkiz !” the sound of someone getting hit echoed out and a small voice cried out in pain. There was silence then a woman’s voice came clear and cold, “ Laqad ahbattani .”

Damian’s eyes flew open and the spell was broken. His breathing was heavy, his heart was pounding and something slid down his cheek. One of his shaking hands gently touched it and he suddenly realized it was a tear. Not a full-out cry, just one tear. He quickly wiped it away and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts racing.

His body was shaking and his cheek stung as if the tear had been much larger and burned his skin. He had no idea how much time had passed since he had sat down, but he knew the sun had moved quite a bit and the inside of his jacket was soaked in sweat from the heat. Damian swung his backpack off his shoulders and slid the drawstring apart. He tried to screw the lid off of his water bottle, but his fingers kept slipping. Damian frowned and forced his hands to be steady and finally removed the plastic cap. The water was warm, but it calmed him down tremendously. By the time he had downed half of the contents, the shaking had stopped and his heart rate returned to normal. He returned the water to his bag.

With his mind now clear he could now properly evaluate a few things.

Like, what the heck just happened?

A woman’s voice rang out and Damian actually flinched, his head snapping up. She was standing at the microphone and the speaker was only a few yards in front of him, making it seem much too loud.

“The winners for the raffle will be announced in five minutes! All participants please report to the main stage for the results!”

Damian rubbed his head. Right. He had been waiting for the raffle announcement when… that happened.

A crowd had gathered at some point when Damian had been… meditating? That didn’t seem right. Meditation was when you cleared your mind of all distractions and turned your thoughts inward. This had been the opposite. It was more… focusing on the distractions and forgetting about yourself. And yes, he did this all the time when he was out in the city but it had never been… like that.

“Focus!” the voice had yelled. Damian frowned. No, she had yelled something else. What was the word again? It hadn’t been English, whatever it was.

Another screech came out of the speakers, making him flinch again. “Only two minutes until the drawing winners are announced by Mr. Bruce Wayne!”

Ugh. Why did he choose to enter this stupid drawing again? He couldn’t think!

For a family outing… right. Because he decided to do something “nice" for his “pretend family". What had he been thinking?

“One minute!”

Sweet Gotham , can't they just start the stupid drawing already? 

Damian closed his eyes and leaned back further in his chair. He’d have to examine the events of the day at another time. There was too much going on at the moment that needed his attention. He slouched down in the hard metal chair when everyone else began to clap and cheer as Mr. Wayne came onto the stage waving and smiling like he was the most important person in the room-

Oh, wait. He thought he was. Damian rolled his eyes and ignored the opening remarks and expressions of gratitude to those who made this event possible.

Finally, the winners began to be read off. They started with the small prizes and slowly built to the big one, which meant Damian only had to wait about ten minutes before the gift card was read off.

“The local Gotham theater gift card at a value of twenty-five dollars….1247.”

So much for that lame idea. Damian slouched in his chair even farther. Maybe it would have been better if he had just tried to steal the card. That’s what Todd would have done. But then Grayson would have asked questions and investigated how Damian had gotten the card. With some help from Drake, he would have been discovered and then would have had to return the prize and apologize.

And Damian hated apologizing.

So, he sulked in his chair as the rest of the numbers were read. He sulked as everyone in the area broke away to either collect their prize or head back to whatever game they had abandoned or just go home. He sulked for quite some time before someone sat down beside him. He didn’t give them any thought until they had the nerve to speak to him.

“Something wrong, son?”

Damian frowned, flicking his gaze to the strange- ah, heck no!  

Bruce Wayne looked concerned, which Damian thought the look didn’t suit him. And he hated sympathy. Damian quickly straightened up and wiped any sort of depressing expression from his face. “No.”

“... Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Damian chopped out, glaring at the man. Leave me alone, I don’t need your sympathy.

“Were you hoping to win something?” Wayne pressed.

Damian didn’t answer, narrowing his eyes even more. Wayne must have taken that as a yes. “I understand being disappointed.”

“ Yeah. Right. ” Damian stood to his feet and began to storm away. 

Wayne was right behind him. “I’m sorry you did not win what you wanted.”

“Do you want me to get security’s attention?” Damian whirled around and crossed his arms. “Because I can. Very quickly.”

Bruce put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, taking a few steps back to really sell the point. “Sorry. I hope the rest of your day goes better.” Then he walked away. 

Grayson found him a short time later and he sputtered off a thousand apologies about leaving him. Damian made a halfhearted comment about being used to it then turned his attention to the approaching figures of Drake and Todd.

Drake was holding a pen in one hand and a red notepad in the other that he must have won from a game or something. Todd looked less ticked off at the world than usual and handed him a cheap stuffed bird without a word. Damian took it in equal silence, more than used to the silent words exchanged between them. 

The four of them left the fairgrounds a short time later in mostly high spirits, which quickly rubbed off on Damian. He might have lost the card, but at least he wasn’t alone.

None of them mentioned their interactions with a certain billionaire to the others.

Chapter Text

Jason jumped down from the fire escape onto the hard concrete below. It wasn’t the usual fire escape he was used to. No, that particular window was on the other side of town. The puddle he landed in sloshed only enough to soak the bottom of his jeans, but he didn’t mind. In Gotham, you were usually wet or damp, especially at night.

And the night was what he liked best.

He walked down the alleyway, his eyes scanning for any movement or light in any shape or form. The police shouldn’t be around this area right now unless some idiot decided to try and rob a convenience store. That meant he had time to window-shop.

Window-shopping to Jason wasn’t just about walking down the streets and looking in the shops. It was also about looking into the cars, people’s purses, and the stores. Geez, he wasn’t that boring.

But none of the cars looked worth rooting through, the shops were run-down and family-run (which meant no stealing from in Jason’s book), and the people were pretty pathetic. He took off a man’s ten-dollar watch just for the pure fun of it, then slipped it back on a few seconds later without him even noticing it was gone. One lady dropped her purse and Jason helped her pick up the spilled contents, pocketing a few mints and sticks of gum in the process. Other than that, it was a slow night.

Jason hated slow nights. This one in particular was quite dismal. Few activities could distract Jason from the events of a bad day. Reading was one. Stealing was the other. For the first time in a long time, Jason was not in the mood to read. He needed to break something. He needed to punch something if only to get punched back because Gotham knew he deserved it.

September meant school. School meant Roman showing up a week late at their bedroom door and throwing the home school in their general direction. And then he left.

Now don’t get Jason wrong: he liked school. But there is a difference between school and “home school”. Sure, being locked in a room for several hours of the day was not exactly fun-- but it wasn’t like he didn’t live like that anyway. And those few years of public school he had participated in were not inherently bad. In fact, if he had the option he would do public over the “home-schooling” program any day. 

Mainly because this wouldn’t happen.

Dick was not a bad teacher. The kid was smart and patient with the brothers and made sure they all kept up as best they could with the current grade level. Most of his time was spent with Damian. The kid had only attended public school for a few months in Kindergarten. Then Roman voted for “home school” as it was less time commitment for him. And so Damian learned most of his reading and writing skills from golden circus boy.

And Jason, in a rare display of “actual parenting” tried to help when he could. Hence, the problem.

Damian had been struggling with his math problems and Dick had been trying to help him but the kid just couldn’t understand it. After the tenth time, Jason attempted to explain it in a different way than he thought was easier to understand. Dick disagreed. Damian was still confused. Jason tried to explain again, but Dick interrupted. The two started arguing and things escalated quickly from there.

Jason doesn’t remember everything he said but he does know he said some insult about growing up in a circus. Very bad. Dick, in turn, had retaliated with a comment about effects Jason might have from his parent’s lifestyles-- which had definitely hurt more than he had let on. But even with that insult, that did not excuse Jason’s behavior.

He was no stranger to racial slurs and insults. It came as part of the territory of growing up as a Crime Ally kid. Maybe that was why it was easy to yell them in Dick’s face.

As soon as they left his mouth, Jason had regretted them. The look on Dick’s face alone made him feel like someone had stabbed him in the chest. Damian had grabbed the nearest object (the home-school booklet) and thrown it at Jason, yelling his own insults that involved quite a bit of colorful language. Tim, who had been trying to play a hesitant mediator, now stood in shock, his hands over his mouth and eyes wide. Any kind of “middle ground” had been shattered and Jason knew what side Tim would be standing on. Correction: should be standing on.

Then Jason had left, without a word.

It was the first time in five years Jason had lost it that bad. Yes, he was angry. But that rage-- that burning ball of fire that consumed all sense and thought had only been felt towards one person in his life. 

Willis was many things. A father was not one of them, no matter what the birth certificate said. One thing Jason will never forget was screaming insults and curses at his old man who was being hauled away by the cops, as his Mom was being looked at by a paramedic. Jason would have been punching and kicking the man if the cops hadn’t stopped him.

Jason never knew who called the cops and he never knew why they came that night. All he knew was Willis hadn’t had time to hide the recent evidence from his dealings with Two-Face. And for once the cops decided it was worth a trip to the station. Of course, the cops hadn’t found his Mom’s stash so maybe they had just been bored.

That had been the last night Jason saw Willis in something that wasn’t an orange jumpsuit. It was a good memory.

But sometimes, Jason missed the days of just punching or hitting when something wasn’t “right”. Not that he liked to get beat up, per se. But winning an argument with a solid punch was a lot easier to do than using words. Words had to be carefully crafted in just the right way that the opponent couldn’t talk their way out of it.

Of course, Dick refused to punch him.

Once, before he knew that Dick wouldn’t hit back, Jason had given him a good one to the jaw. The kid had hit the wall and gone down faster than Jason could blink. Jason waited for him to get up and hit back only for Dick to rub his jaw, look up with shining eyes, and just stare at him.

Still gave him the chills when he thought about it. Jason resolved to never hit Dick again. (no way he was going to beat up someone who wouldn’t (or couldn’t) fight back. He would not be Willis)

Jason was snapped out of his thoughts by a distant siren. He ducked into a nearby alley. The police car sped past to Gotham-knew-where. Jason counted to thirty before returning to the main street. He let out a heavy sigh and slid a hand down his face.

Home-schooling? Had he seriously blown up about math?

No… that had never been what it was about. Sure, that had been the words exchanged and by all appearances, it would always look like an argument over a math problem.
But the actual argument had been laced through emphasized words and unspoken concerns.

Jason had caught Dick jumping between a few six-story buildings two nights ago. He had confronted him about it later that evening, but Dick had given the same sorry excuses he always did. And Jason was sick of them. Then Dick had to go and bring up a car Jason had taken for a joy-ride the previous night. The argument got worse and the two were whispering shouting outside the window for only a few minutes. Then Tim interrupted and the argument had been left hanging. It was easy enough to transition into, with two different ideas of how something should be handled to find the solution to a problem.

Jason settled down on a nearby bus bench. He walked enough for now. Maybe he’d find an interesting target through people watching. Or maybe he’d just sleep there. Not the most comfortable position, but he’d been in worse. Jason laid his head back and closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to wander again.

He’d left the apartment around two pm. The time was now almost ten pm and Jason wasn’t planning on returning until at least four in the morning.

He had to apologize to Dick. Yeah, he was being an idiot, and yeah, he shouldn’t be jumping off buildings at heights that can kill most people, but Jason shouldn’t have called him… that. It didn’t matter what Dick had done, he had no right to say something like that.

But he’d have to be careful how he worded the apology. Didn’t want to say something that made Dick think he was okay with his parkour adventures. Maybe he should give him a peace offering of some kind, like money for winter, or go buy some good, filling food.

Nah, Dick would know that he stole it, and then that would launch another argument. And that was the last thing Jason wanted.

Jason’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of screeching tires. He looked up just in time to see the Batmobile squeal down the street. To his shock (and his pleasure) the car swung into a nearby alleyway then came to an abrupt stop. A black blur shot out of the cabin and into the sky, disappearing into the darkness.

Batman.

Jason started to count. Had the Bat spotted him? It certainly did not appear that way as no shadowy figure floated in his direction. If anything, Jason was pretty positive the man had shot off in the exact opposite way. Even if he had, there was no way the Bat had left his vehicle in such a vulnerable area of town… right?

His eyes scanned the vehicle from the distance, trying to make out exactly what model car it was. Custom made. Made sense, Jason supposed, Batman made all of his other gadgets, why not the car?

50, 51, 52…

Jason slowly stood to his feet and began to make his way over, triple checking the corners and keeping his eyes open for any movement. The car cabin would be most likely locked and protected with some sort of anti-theft hardware-- not that he wanted to steal it, per se. More like get a better look at it.

102, 103, 104…

He finally arrived at the alley and did a quick scan of the rooftops. No shadowy figures that he could see. Only the musky sky and distant twinkling signs. The sky was just gray clouds, blocking any semblance of the moon or any star that attempted to break through Gotham’s light pollution.

127, 128, 129...

Cautiously, Jason started walking around the vehicle. It looked even cooler up close. Black paint, just touched up, sleek design. He was careful not to make physical contact. Never knew if it had a car alarm. Or traps. Batman definitely bobby trapped his own car, right? If he didn’t, Jason would be extremely disappointed.

165, 166, 167…

The windows were tinted which made it impossible to see in. That just made Jason more curious. He was now at the front of the car and there he stood, hands on his hips, just staring at it. He noted the lack of a hood ornament and was a bit disappointed. The Bat would never have missed it and Jason could have definitely walked off with it for a pretty penny. Simple, clean, and nothing actually important to the car.

198, 199, 200.

Batman should have had a hood ornament.

Jason swung his backpack off his shoulders and to his feet. He dug around for a moment before grasping his trusty tire iron and a wrench. Both were rusty and the wrench had been bent out of shape when he found it in the dumpster, but with a little persuasion, he had gotten it back to fairly the right shape.

Most people worried about the car being stolen. And while Jason had hijacked a few rides in his life, his goal on most (and this particular) evening were the tires. Specifically, the bat-insignia hubcaps because ego much?

In Jason’s defense, most tires he never actually took. Wing would never allow it and promptly flipped every time he found one of the tires shoved behind the dumpster. Jason mostly took them off and left them under the car. Sometimes, for the fun of it, he threw them in the trunk. The poor owners would come back and freak out that someone had not only vandalized their car but had broken into it. The police had gotten enough of the calls they knew there was nothing to worry about, but try telling a panicked woman that. 

Jason chuckled to himself, replacing the backpack on his back and heading over to the front right tire.

‘Wonder if the Bat made them tougher to crack….’

When he found Jason trying to pick apart his car, Batman’s first instinct was to swoop in and demand him to cease. He was about to do so when Jason suddenly threw his wrench aside with a curse. The small distraction allowed Batman’s mind to move to his second idea.

Watch him.

And so, he did. Batman remained crouched on a fire escape for a good ten minutes as Jason tried to pull the fourth and final hubcap off his tire. The kid was good, he’d give him that. How many other people could get the hubcaps off a custom car? And how many people were stupid enough to do such a thing?

To add to the feat, at least one of the tires had been loosened from the car. Its bolts laid haphazardly spread across the asphalt and it looked like Jason had tried to pull it off, before giving up. Good thing too. Nothing short of Superman or the special button in the cap would pop that tire free. (Batman had learned the hard way a few years ago that nice cars attracted vandalism, no matter who they belonged to).

Jason was now having trouble with the last hubcap, trying to pry it off by bending it back this way and that way. Rather than looking frustrated, however, Jason looked rather excited at the turn of events.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile when Jason slung his bag off again and began digging around for a new tool of sorts. That was when Batman decided it was time to intervene. He did have a job to do that did not involve small children. He glided down as quietly as he could, touching down with barely a thump.

Jason had been in the zone when he felt the hand grab his shoulder. He swung the tire iron around and tried to hit whoever held him, but the man caught it, then pulled it out of his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Uh oh. He’d forgotten whose car this was. 

Jason whirled to his feet and took a step back. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet. “Uh… testing the security?” Yeah, right, like the Bat would believe a lie like that.

Batman let him go and stepped back a few feet. He didn’t look angry, his face a passive mask. He was still holding the tire iron in his right hand. It hung there, but Jason couldn’t quite tear his eyes from it. Batman did not sound too angry and the question was definitely an odd one. “Did you find it lacking?”

O-kay… What do you say to that? “...No?” Jason replied, a bit hesitant. The tire iron was swinging ever so gently. It barely moved, but it still held Jason’s full attention.

“I didn’t think so.” The freaking Bat then chuckled. As if this situation couldn’t get any weirder. Jason managed to rip his gaze up to the mask. They snapped back immediately when Batman shifted in his stance. 

The iron lifted an inch.

Despite his best efforts, Jason moved. He took a step back, then another, then another pressing himself against the alley wall and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath picked up as the nightmares flared to the front of his mind.

He couldn’t run. That was never an option. Running was only a short reprieve before the blows would come. Hard, merciless, driving Jason into a ball on the ground that could only bite his lip and keep the noise to a minimum.

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. Willis hated tears and he’d only make the punishment worse. He could cry when it was over. When Willis decided enough was enough and left him with the bruises and blood. Then he’d crawl to the bathroom (hopefully Mom wasn’t there and had picked tonight to pass out in the bedroom) and lock the door. If she was, then he’d just have to climb out the window and stubble to the roof.

Someone was talking. They sounded worried. “--breathe, Jay Bird, I need you to breathe-- ”

Jason pressed himself even further against the wall. He was breathing-- albeit a bit fast but hey, he didn’t know if these breaths would be his last. Then again, Bats did have a reputation for not killing so there could be some comfort out of that.

“That’s it, Jay. In… out… in…”

There still hadn’t been a punch. Or a tire iron swung.

Jason grit his teeth. “Just get it over with,” he hissed, eyes still squeezed shut and body still tense and ready for the pain that was sure to come.

The steady voice telling him to breathe stopped. Good. Jason could handle many things, hearing “angels” was not one of them.

Batman’s grovel rang out, loud and tight. “What ?”

Jason flinched. He silently cursed his show of weakness to the depths of Gotham’s underworld. Maybe he could cover it up. “I tried to steal off your car. There’s no freaking way I can outrun a Bat so just swing already. I need to be home before the sun’s up.” Not Jason’s best comeback but at least it was something.

There was silence again. “... what?” Jason couldn’t quite place that tone. It was mostly flat but there was a hint of something. Maybe surprise, but that couldn’t be right. Batman was never surprised.

Waiting for an impending beating was a lot worse than Jason thought it would be. He just wanted to get it over with, was that too much to ask? “That’s what you do, right? Beat up the bad guys? Get it over with!”

“You want me to… hit you ?” Batman sounded… offended.

Jason flinched again, his eyes squeezing even tighter together. Of course, Batman didn’t hit car thieves. He probably hung them by their ankles from the lamp posts, then used them as a punching bag. Idiot! He felt a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to actually feel slightly relieved. Maybe getting beat up by the Bat would be a good way to make it up to Dick for his stupid mistake.

You can imagine his surprise when the soft voice returned. “Oh, Jason… ” 

Jason frowned. He finally opened his eyes to find Batman kneeling in front of him on one knee, a hand on Jason’s shoulder. He was frowning but… it was sad. Not an angry scowl. And that same soothing tone that told him to breathe earlier was coming, not from a hallucination, but from the freaking Bat. “ Jason, I’m… I’m not going to hit you.”

“Why… why not?” Jason felt confused. Very confused. “I’m a criminal, I-”

“You are not a criminal,” Batman growled in his familiar grovel and Jason flinched again. He really needed to work on that.

Batman’s voice softened again. “You’re just a kid. A kid who is a little lost and a little confused.” He gripped Jason’s shoulder a little tighter, “I’m not angry at your curiosity. I’m disappointed in your actions, but not angry.”

Jason stared back, eyes wide and confused. He didn’t like confusion. He never had and never would. So he did what he did with any emotion he didn’t know how to handle or want to handle. He turned it into anger. 

Jason shoved Batman away as best he could. “You’re lying .”

“Jason--”

“I’ve broken more laws than I can count. I should be in juvie.” It might not be a good idea to tell that to a vigilante but if Bats didn’t think he deserved a beating, then he would gladly clear that up. “I steal, I hurt people, I damage public and private property, I have broken into buildings and houses, some of them more than once--”

“Jason- ”

“I’m a criminal. You’re the hero. So do your frickin’ job.”

Batman didn’t move. He just sat and stared at Jason like he was worth something.

And Jason had no idea what to do about it.

Bats finally spoke. It was quiet and gentle. “Jason… I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached a hand out, but it was open and flat. Empty of any kind of deceit or harm.

It was only then Jason saw the tire iron had been abandoned by the Batmobile.

“Stop. Just… stop .” Jason took a step away. That step turned into another, then another. The distance between them increased bit by bit. 

Batman didn’t move to stop Jason. He stayed still, hand still outstretched like it was an actual option for Jason. 

And with that final thought, Jason spun on his heels and ran, leaving his bag on the ground by the Batmobile without a second thought. He ran and ran as fast as he could, half-waiting half-expecting the Bat to suddenly swoop down with that righteous fury he was known for.

He never did.

Running had never been an option with Willis.

The apartment was dark when Jason returned. He climbed into bed as quietly as he could and slept until noon. He was in no mood to speak to Dick, especially as he still had no idea what he was going to say to him.

Dick had left with both Damian and Tim earlier in the morning, probably to get some more bottles for quarters. They’d probably be back by three, which left some time for Jason to sort together some kind of apology.

He slowly rolled over in bed to face the room instead of the wall. Someone had left him a bag of dry cereal on the edge of his bed. Roman must have remembered to bring it by this morning. The food was dry and tasted stale, but it was better than nothing. Jason jumped down from his top bunk and hit the ground with a thump. He glanced around the small room for something to do.

Jason almost choked on his food at the sight of his backpack he had definitely left with Batman last night. And yet, there it was on the floor, right beside the window. Which meant Batman now knew where they lived. That or Jason had led the man to his brothers. Part of him really wanted to tear his hair out, another part of him wanted to punch the wall. Either option would not help the situation, but it might help Jason feel better.

After he calmed down and got his air back, Jason approached the bag.

Maybe it was booby-trapped and would blow up the moment he touched it. If that was the case, then now was the best time to find out. No annoying brothers to get caught up in the carnage of Jason’s mistakes.

The zippers were still pulled to the side, on the left, which made him think Bats hadn’t gone through his bag or maybe he was just good at covering his tracks. He carefully poked at the bag, checking for any oddities in the appearance. It did look a little… bigger. So the bomb seemed like a good bet.

Jason took a deep breath and picked it up. Yep. Definitely heavier. He slowly zipped the back pocket open and waited. Nothing happened. He slowly peeled the pocket open to reveal--

Holy Gotham.

The hub cap was even shiner in daylight, with the bat insignia on the side clear and distinguishable. His hand hovered over it for a moment before snatching it out of the bag. Nothing happened so maybe the booby trap thing was a bit of a leap of the imagination but hey. Jason flipped the cap over and found a piece of paper taped to the back. It was small, folded twice, and Jason’s curiosity got the better of him.

Jason carefully peeled it off and flipped it open. The handwriting was neat and printed. Something that was a little more refined than Jason expected from a man who ran around in a Bat costume but hey. It was Gotham. Nothing ever was as it appeared.

The note was short and started with a simple, “Jason.”

Wait just a second, since when did Batman know his name? Jason frowned, thinking back to the previous night. And crap, Batman had called him Jason several times last night which probably meant Bats did not have to follow him home. He probably already knew where to go.

With that happy thought, Jason scanned the note. Once, then twice before stuffing it back into the pack, along with the hubcap.

If Jason hurried, he could make it to a nearby pawnshop and sell the cap in time to return with a nice little surprise for Golden Boy. The money would definitely come in handy as winter was approaching and Dick had been talking about the need for warmer coats. The perfect apology present-- especially since it technically wasn’t stolen.

Jason,

A true criminal focuses fully on themselves, with little thought of how it hurts the people around them. Their only focus is on their next fix, their next heist, their next score, their next victim.

From what I’ve seen, that is nowhere close to who you are.

B

Chapter Text

It started with a cough.

Mid-September, Friday evening. Dick had been checking Damian’s math problems for mistakes when he heard a rather loud and rough-sounding cough from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to find Tim, mouth buried in his elbow and coughing. “You okay, Tim?”

Tim held up a finger in a ‘wait a second’ gesture. He coughed some more than cleared his throat, once, twice. “Dry spot. I’m fine.” He gave a tight smile and turned back to his own math book.

Dick watched him for a moment before determining it was nothing to worry about and went back to Damian’s worksheet.

An hour or so later, Dick left the apartment to grab some hotdogs from the stand in the park. The chilly weather would soon chase the vendors away and there was nothing like a weekend treat. Especially after a (mostly successful) first week of school. The vendor was a favorite of Jason’s and what better way for Dick to “officially” bury the… unpleasant incident. Dick wasn’t sure if Jason had been one hundred percent honest when he handed Dick the “legally acquired” fifty dollars in cash. But he had seemed honest and Dick had experienced enough of Jason’s “apologies” to know he was genuine.

A hot dog from his favorite stand was the perfect way to tell Jason he was forgiven in Jason’s silent language.

So Dick returned with a dinner of various topped hot dogs, with the money coming from Jason’s apology. Jason and Damian had scarfed their dinner down with cheerful smiles and laughs. Jason even shared a smile with Dick, the silent message received and appreciated.

Tim hardly touched the food. He took a bite, maybe two, before giving half of his dinner to Damian and the other half to Jason and Dick. “I’m not really that hungry,” Tim explained. “But thanks, Wing. It was really good.”

Did Dick believe the excuse? Not really. Did he press for Tim to tell him what was bugging him? 

Nope.

Tim always kept his cards close to his chest. Whenever Dick or Jason pressed, Tim just withdrew more. Thus, Dick found the best approach was to watch and wait. He did not have to wait long as Dick woke up to the sound of a coughing fit. This one sounded worse.

Dick crawled down from his bed to the ground floor. Tim had tried to keep the coughing down by pressing his head into his pillow. But there was only so much coughing one could do before someone else noticed. While Tim caught his breath, Dick grabbed Tim’s water bottle and filled it in the bathroom.

“Here,” Dick whispered as quietly as he could. No need to wake anyone else up… if they weren’t already up. “Drink up.”

Tim knew better than to argue and did as he was told. While he sipped at the water, Dick pressed a hand to Tim’s forehead. It was warm, but nothing to be concerned about. Yet. “Is your throat scratchy or sore?”

“No,” Tim mumbled. “It’s just a cough. I’m fine.”

“Headache?”

“No.”

“Do your limbs feel heavy or feel pain anywhere?”

“Dick, it’s just a cough. I’m fine ." 

Dick frowned. “Are you sure?”

“ Yes . Now go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Tim yawned and laid back down. 

Dick hesitated, but tucked the blanket around Tim and mumbled a “Goodnight,” then returned to his bunk.

So maybe he was a bit concerned when one of his brothers got sick. But it wasn’t like anyone else cared. Roman barely gave them enough food, let alone cared if they had a cough. And Tim deserved someone who cared. 

They all did.

Tim woke up in a coughing fit. He wasn’t proud of it, but there was very little he could do that would stop the hacks that shook his body. Someone (probably Dick) helped Tim sit up and pressed his water bottle into his hands.

“Deep breaths, Tim,” Dick told him.

Tim managed to nod and take a few sips of water. He tried to open his eyes but slammed them back shut almost immediately at the light. His head felt stuffed and he could feel the beginning of a headache start to form. Not to mention the fact that his chest was starting to ache from all the coughing.

“Tim?” Dick sounded worried.

“M’ fine…” he rasped out before the coughs started again.

Dick pressed a hand to Tim’s forehead. Tim couldn’t resist leaning into the cool touch.

“You’ve got a fever, bud,” Dick said. “Lay back down. You’re staying in bed for now.”

Tim shook his head and immediately regretted the action. “No I’m--” the coughs came again in a sputtering fit. 

Dick rubbed his hand across Tim’s back, mumbling something about breathing and no more talking. “Lay down. I’ll see what we’ve got under the floorboard, okay?” And then he was gone.

Tim really wanted to do the opposite. He was fine . A cough was nothing to worry about. The headache would definitely be confusing, but there was no reason for Tim to be a burden today. Especially today.

Damian had practically begged Dick for a trip to the movie theater this weekend. Dick had agreed upon it shortly after Jason had returned with his apology (Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to know how Jason had come by that money). And, just their luck, the movie theater was going to be showing a back to back viewing of some of the older Disney cartoons. Tim had been rather mortified that none of the boys had ever seen “ The Lion King ”. (…then again, that might be for the best, what with the father dying and all).

It didn’t matter now. Dick was definitely canceling the theater trip and Tim was now confined to bed for at least a day. Joy.

Dick reappeared, snapping Tim back to the present. “Out of cough syrup, but here’s some ibuprofen.” He pressed the pill into Tim’s hand, along with the bag of dry cereal. “Eat some of this, swallow the pill, then eat some more.”

“I know, Dick. M’ fine.”

Dick gave him one of his looks. The ‘I don’t believe you for a second but I’ll just pretend I do’ look. Tim was very familiar with it.

Dick looked up towards Jason, who hadn’t gotten out of bed quite yet, “Jay, could you--”

“No.”

“Jason--”

“No.”

Dick sighed, clearly exasperated. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”

“Yes, I do,” Tim heard Jason sit up and shuffle around before poking his head down over the side. He stared down, clearly annoyed. “And the answer is no. Tim’s a big boy, he doesn’t need cough syrup.”

Dick glared at him, “It doesn’t hurt to have some.”

Oh. Tim bit back another coughing fit by chugging down some water. It was cool and soothed his scratchy throat.

“You’re the one who’s worried about winter gear. We can’t spend money on something that we don’t need,” Jason was arguing.

“Jason, look at him!” Dick motioned at Tim, which Tim found a little rude. He was sitting right there.

Jason looked at him. “Timbit, do you need cough syrup?”

“No,” Tim managed to say without agitating his throat. It was true. Cough syrup was soothing on scratchy throats but not necessary.

“See?” Jason finally climbed down from the bunk. “Kids fine. You worry too much, Dicksie Stick.”

“...Never call me that again,” Dick said.

Jason snorted. “I can always call you something much, much worse so be thankful.”

Tim interrupted with another coughing fit. He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to muffle the sound. It did not help. Tim pressed the thin blanket into his mouth and coughed and coughed. Dick was talking to Jason in an attempt to convince him about the syrup again. Tim silently cursed his immune system. The last thing he wanted to be was more of a burden.

“--tomorrow, okay?” Jason was saying.

Dick slumped in his seat in defeat, “Fine.”

Tim blinked. What had he missed? He opened his mouth to ask--only for more coughs to wrack his body.

This finally got Damian to sit up in bed, with an angry glare to match Tim’s disappointment in himself. Damian pulled his blanket closer around him and scooted up against his wall, as far away from Tim as possible. “I refuse to get whatever Drake has,” he informed the room, then proceeded to press his mouth and nose into the blanket.

Jason just rolled his eyes. “In the four years that I have known you, name one time you’ve been sick. One time.” He barely paused before rushing ahead, “That’s right, zero. So quit whining and be useful. What do you need, Dick?

“Uh… tissues, a cloth, and a bucket of cool water.”

“You heard him, baby bird.”

“Why don’t you get it, Todd?”

Jason shrugged, “Because Roman hates you least and if anyone can talk a bucket or bowl out of his kitchen, it’s you.”

Damian sighed loudly, “Fine. But I do it with protest.”

“Noted,” Dick and Jason said together. And with that, Damian marched out the door, leaving Jason and Dick to tend to Tim.

Tim hated being sick.

Ya’know, convincing Dick to wait until the following morning to get the cough syrup may not have been the best idea Jason ever had. But that didn’t mean he stood by it. Tim wasn’t a pushover and a cough did not mean the end of the world.

But did Tim have to be contagious?

Jason woke up to not one coughing fits but two because guess who caught whatever Tim had. Dickie Stick! So Jason now had a day of trying to convince Dick to stay in bed, sleep, and, oh yeah, get some cough syrup.

“Seriously, Dick? I said I’d get it if Tim was worse today--”

“I’m fine ,” Tim said, then immediately began to cough. It didn’t sound any worse but they certainly sounded painful.

“--but I think two people counts as worse, right?” Jason ignored Tim. The kid was probably lying anyway.

Dick was sitting up in bed and trying to tend to Tim like he wasn’t coughing as well. “I’m not sick.”

“And I’m Batman,” Jason shot back. “Now lay down you idiot. You have a fever of 101 and you don’t want it to get any worse, right?”

Dick glared at him. Jason didn’t even flinch. Dick sighed loudly but laid back down. “Fine. But I don’t need cough syrup. And make sure Tim gets the Ibuprofen.”

“You’re both taking some so stop complaining and eat your cereal.”

Dick frowned. “We only have a few pills left.”

“I can get more when I get syrup, alright?” Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, Dick had the self-preservation instincts of a lemming. “I’ll leave after lunch and be back before dinner. Alright?”

“...fine. But with protest.”

The pharmacy was out of what he needed, but the lady told Jason they were expecting a delivery later in the day. So he decided to wait outside on a nearby bus bench. The city was alive for a September day. Then again, the sun was out. People rushed past, ignoring the boy in the red hoodie, much too wrapped up in their own lives. Just the way Jason liked it.

So of course Gotham didn’t let it last.

After an hour or so of waiting, Jason was forced to return to the apartment empty-handed. See, some cities have tornado sirens. Others have some kind of storm warning system, whether that be through tech or just broadcasting over the airwaves. Gotham has a rogue alert. 

Of course, the alert wasn’t used for every single villain attack. Just the big ones or the ones that you might want to go home for. Heck, there are even different patterns for different kinds of threats. If the sirens are steady in tone and beat, then you should leave the city as soon as possible. If they are steady in rhythm, but start out as a high pitch, then drop to a low pitch, then you should return home and stay off the streets. If it is just high pitch squeals, then you need to put on your gas mask (and if you don’t have one then you must have missed the memo of needed supplies when you live in Gotham). There are a few other patterns that are supposed to indicate which villain is attacking, but those were rarely used. Those three patterns were the necessary ones to know, along with the hybrid patterns that they were involved with.

This particular alarm was the “get off the streets and get inside” , then it switched to “gas mask alert” for a minute, before going back to the “seek shelter” warning.

Well, Jason’s gas mask was back at the apartment. And while Jason wasn’t afraid of a fight, he knew better than to stay put. The last thing he needed was lungs full of fear toxin. Or mind-control spores. Or Joker Gas.

Basically, he didn’t want to lose his mind.

When he got back, the others had already pulled the masks out and Dick was trying to help Tim get the straps around the back of his head, while Tim continued to cough. Damian tossed him the last of their masks (even Roman wasn’t foolish enough to not get one for each of them) and Jason slid it on.

Dick looked over with a questioning look in his eye. Jason shook his head. Dick’s only response was his own coughing fit acting up.

Jason took the bowl and rags from Damian. “Get some sleep, baby bird.”

“I am not a baby .”

Jason ignored him, resting the cool rag against Tim’s burning skin. “Rest while you can. It might get a little loud tonight.” Two coughers plus whatever outside chaos might come. Definitely not a fun evening.

Good news: nothing had happened with the city. Apparently, someone had thought they saw Scarecrow unloading a bunch of fear toxins near city hall and had called the police. They took it seriously, which Jason knew he should be grateful for. The last thing he wanted was someone not taking a threat seriously and ending up passed out in the street screaming his throat raw.

Turns out it was a bunch of Halloween decorations for the town hall. Sure, the holiday wasn’t for over a month, but planning ahead and all that jazz.

Jason wanted to punch whoever thought that was a good idea because that shipment for the pharmacy was now delayed for the following day. No one traveled to Gotham during a rogue crisis. True, he could have just gotten a bus across town and checked another pharmacy but…

He had to save money. Yes, that was the reason. It had nothing to do with Dick waking up and thinking that Jason was his dad for a few seconds. Or the fact that Tim had hardly eaten anything in over twenty-four hours.

Most of Jason’s day was spent switching between the two of them, checking temperatures, shoving the last of the fever reducers down their throats, and keeping them entertained (if they were even conscious).

Damian did not particularly enjoy that last part. “Where did you even get that?” He pointed to the ratty and torn book. The cover had been ripped completely off and someone had taped it back very haphazardly.

Jason rolled his eyes, opening to the first page of Matilda by Rohald Dahl. “A thrift store.”

“The pictures look weird,” Damian told him.

“It’s called illustrations and they are unique,” Jason replied. “Now, shut up. The book isn’t for you.” ‘It isn’t even for me.’ He cleared his throat and began to read aloud, “ It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful…”

By the fifth chapter, Jason’s throat felt sore.

He started to cough a little less than half-way through.

Jason really hated Tim for being contagious.

Damian stood in the center of the bedroom. In one bunk lay Drake and Grayson, huddle together. Both were shivering but their temperature was much too high for personal comfort. Todd was in a similar state in the other bunk.

The past three hours had been Damian taking the stupid wet cloth and pressing it to everyone’s forehead. Sometimes he would take a break and read out of that stupid book Todd had started. Every hour he would pull out the cracked thermometer and check temperatures.

Grayson and Todd remained steady around 102-103 degrees Fahrenheit (or 38.9-39.4 degrees in Celsius because America had to be rebellious in everything).

It was Drake that was causing concern. Damian checked the number again.

103.8

It had been 103.2 that morning.

Grayson mumbled something in his sleep and Damian abandoned the thermometer for the cloth. He pressed it against Grayson’s forehead. Grayson’s eyes cracked open and he squinted blearily. “Baby bird?”

“Go back to sleep, Grayson.”

“Mmh,” Grayson mumbled. “Where’s Jason?” He had asked that at least three times today. Damian answered the same way he had.

“Resting. Like you should be.”

“Oh… right,” Grayson mumbled, coughing into his blanket.

Of course, that was when Todd decided to start coughing up again. Damian abandoned the cloth on Grayson’s face and fetched the water bottle. Todd was stubborn and refused Damian’s help in swallowing. It almost made Damian smile. Almost.

Grayson had already fallen back asleep by the time Damian got Todd to lay down again. Damian took the moment of silence to go out to the bathroom and get some more water.

Apparently, Damian had been distracted enough to have not heard Roman come down the hall and almost ran into him. The now warm water splashed in the bowl and some of it split on the floor and Roman’s house slippers.

Uh oh.

“Derek!” Roman yelled. He yanked the bowl out of Damian’s hands. “Where did you get this?!”

Damian did not correct the name. “The kitchen, sir. You allowed me to borrow it two days ago.”

“And you still have it?!” Roman shook the bowl, sloshing even more water onto the floor. “Why?”

“I told you when I borrowed it. Everyone is sick, sir” Damian replied as evenly as possible.

“I thought only Terry was sick.”

“Grayson and Todd caught what he has, sir.”

Roman narrowed his gaze. “I’m not going to have to call a doctor, am I?”

Damian saw the opening and he took it. “If I can get some soup from the kitchen, then no, sir.”

“Soup?”

“Canned soup, sir. They haven’t been able to eat anything because of the coughing. If they eat, then they will get stronger and there will be no need for a doctor, sir.”

Roman frowned. He looked down at the bowl, then shoved it back into Damian’s hands. The water sloshed all over Damian’s shirt and pants but Damian said nothing. “You have to get it yourself. And only one can. Soup ain’t cheap. Got it, Devin?”

Canned soup cost maybe a couple of dollars but Damian didn’t say anything.“Yes, sir.” Damian bobbed his head. “It should only take five minutes. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

“Better not,” Roman growled, then turned away. “And get me a can, while you’re at it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The soup had helped. A little. It was warm, but the broth was easy for everyone to swallow. Well, almost everyone. Drake was having difficulty and Damian had to get Grayson’s help to get just a few swallows down his throat.

Then again, none of them got more than a few swallows. One can of soup isn’t much for three people. Damian checked everyone's temperatures and read them aloud. He only felt a little bad about lying.

Grayson had gone down a tad, which was a good sign. Todd had jumped up to 103.5

Drake was 103.9

Damian waited until he was sure Grayson and Todd were asleep (Drake hadn’t moved since he had his soup other than his frequent coughs that wracked his body). He wet a cloth for each of the brothers and draped it across their foreheads and made sure the water bottles were in reaching distance. Then he shimmied under the bed and pried up the floorboard. He pulled out about twenty-five dollars, stuffed it in his pocket, then snuck down the fire escape. The sun had already set so Damian stuck to the shadows.

The corner store was still open, but it would be closing shortly. He moved quickly to the medicine aisle.

He bit back a few choice words at the lack of product on the shelves. Where in Gotham was the cough syrup??? Heck, where was the ibuprofen? Damian sighed and looked up to the ceiling. Why did everything have to be complicated for him?

“Can I help you?” One of the employees asked. She looked a bit annoyed and had her arms crossed across her body and the smile clearly forced.

“Where’s the cough syrup?”

“Our shipment has been delayed--”

Damian glared at her, not in the mood to be polite. “It has been delayed for three days. Where is it?”

The lady glared at him. “Look kid, our shipment got stolen or something and that’s all the cops will tell us okay? We’ll have the cough syrup in a week or so because we have to reorder it. Go somewhere else if you need it that badly.”

Damian wanted to throw something. “Next time, lead with that!” And then he stormed out of the shop, not caring what anyone thought of a child alone on the streets. The worker certainly didn’t care. He started in the direction of another corner store. Hopefully, they’d still be open by the time he got there. It probably wouldn’t be, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of options. He didn’t exactly trust buses at night.

He was about five minutes into his twenty-minute walk when Damian realized someone was following him. 

Great.

Damian increased his speed just a tad. His stalker picked up the pace as well.

He did not have time for this.

Damian went to duck into an alley. He could always climb up a fire escape and pull a Nightwing (aka parkour the best he can). Instead, he found himself face to face with a couple of homeless men.

Now, Damian had a pretty good relationship with some of Gotham’s homeless population. Emphasis on the some . Take Victoria near the Narrows. She loved cats just as much, if not more than Damian. He would ask about her friends and she would introduce him to any new kittens she had found abandoned. In return, he’d share whatever food he had on him at the time. Or Edward, who switched between Bludhaven and Gotham, depending on the time of year. Edward used to be a teacher before he had fallen on hard times and was always willing to teach anything he could to Damian.

These guys didn’t look as nice as Edward or Victoria. One was sporting a bruised and freshly cut face and the other had a very nasty scar running down his jawline. Despite their living circumstances, they both appeared in decent health and more than able of decking Damian into unconsciousness. One was smoking a cigarette and both gave off the “don’t talk to me” vibe that Damian knew all too well.

Damian backed up just as quickly as he had appeared and found that his stalker was only a few yards behind him. The man was wearing a jacket and beanie, but that didn’t hide the very pointed look he was giving Damian.

Well, this was a problem.

Alright, Damian had two options. Run as fast as he could and pray he lost his stalker on the streets. He did not like that plan very much. The man was much taller than him which meant longer strides. And while Damian was confident in his ability to defend himself with his brothers as a backup, there was a reason he knew how to hide. He might have time to open up his bag and get his Batarang out, but then what? Grayson had banned him from throwing it or even playing around with it so Damian had no idea how to use it.

If he got out of this, he would be sure to rectify that mistake.

The second option, seek refuge with the two homeless guys and pray they were more morally driven than his stalker. Also not ideal.

The stalker was closer and Damian made a split-second decision. He entered the ally and very loudly called, “Sorry, the convenience store was out.”

The two homeless guys looked at him, then looked at each other. They had the look of, “Do you know the kid?” They turned back to Damian, now clearly suspicious.

Damian shuffled forward a little more, feeling the stalker growing closer. One man stepped further away, clearly not wanting to deal with whatever Damian was trying to get rid of.

He made another split-second decision and pulled out the bills in his pocket, “Here’s your money back.”

Both men shared another confused look. “Kid, I think you got us confused--”

The stalker appeared and Damian cursed himself for not running. The man had a bright smile and spoke almost kindly. “Hello. You lost, kiddo?”

Damian shook his head quickly. “No, sir. I’m just returning some money to some nice men who live outside my apartment.” Damian moved forward again and held the money out to the nearest man. “They didn’t have the painkillers. Here is your money.”

The man didn’t move for a moment, then took the precious dollars. “That’s alright, Freddy. Thanks for checking anyway.” He shoved the money into his pocket and Damian was unable to tell what he was thinking.

The other man suddenly piped up. “How’s the family, Freddy? Did your sister win the spelling bee?”

Damian resisted the urge to sigh in relief. “Afraid not. She made it to the final three though, so that was cool. Wyn sprained his ankle in gymnastic class though.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” he replied. “What did he do to do a thing like that?”

“He dismounted wrong. The doctors say he won’t be able to compete in this next competition.”

The stalker still hadn’t moved and Damian took a few steps closer to the homeless men. He was now fully in their reach if they wanted to lunge out and grab him. He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that he had made the right decision.

The first man, the one with the bills, turned to the stalker and smiled, “Thanks for checking on our neighbor. Gotham can be a nasty place, y’know?” He patted his side and only then did Damian notice the bulge under the man’s jacket.

Oh, crap, he had a gun.

The stalker did a polite bob of his head and said something along the lines of being a pleasure or something then took off down the street faster than you could say “holy Batman”.

The man and Damian kept up the conversation until the stalker disappeared from sight. Damian tried to keep his heart from pounding and stay calm. He could maybe run before the man could shoot him or maybe--

The man who had been talking to him stopped and the tone shifted into something much more violent. Damian felt the panic rise up only to get shoved down at the curses spat out in the direction of the stalker. “That nasty, little--”

“Calm yourself, David,” the other said.

“I’ll calm myself when I want to, Joe! May Joker take that son of a--” David spat. He looked back at Damian, who resisted the urge to sprint. Again. “You okay, son?”

“Yeah… thanks for that.” Damian bit his lower lip.

Joe shook his head, “Shouldn’t be out this late, kid.”

“My brothers need cough syrup. I do not live far,” Damian replied.

David still looked angry. “No reason for your parents to send you out at eleven o’clock at night! You’re in Gotham for crying out loud!”

Damian chose not to respond to that. He hesitated a moment making another risky decision, but one he felt a little more comfortable with than just sprinting into the night. “Is it alright if I stay here for a few minutes? Wait for him to really leave?”

“Better idea,” David said, “How about we walk you home?”

“Thanks,” Damian said, “But I can handle myself for a few blocks.”

Joe smirked, “Not the smartest kid are you?”

“Just because you helped me now does not mean you will continue to do so,” Damian shot back. He bit his tongue to prevent the curses that he wanted to yell. Now, why would he say something like that? Idiot!

Neither Joe nor David appeared offended. Joe unfolded the bills from his pocket and held them out to Damian. “I believe this is yours.”

“... I gave it to you, fair and square.”

“Kid, we would have jumped in even without the money.”

“I do not like being in debt to someone.” The men did help him with a situation he did not want to really be a part of. They deserved some kind of thanks. Damian internally groaned. He had been spending too much time with Grayson.

David shook his head, “Just take the money, kid.”

Damian did not respond or move.

Joe sighed, pulled out half the money, then offered the rest to Damian. “Better?”

Damian hesitated but took the offered money. Better to have some than none. Grayson was already going to be annoyed that Damian lost money and got nothing out of it. There was no way he was going to get to the corner store in time now. It would be best to head back now and cut his losses.

“You run into trouble, you run straight back here, got it?” David told him.

Damian nodded, although he had no intention of doing so. He started down the street, David and Joe’s voices getting farther and farther away.

“--messed up. If I see that guy again--”

“Just tell our Dark friend what he looked like next time we see him. He’ll take care of it. Speaking of which, did you see the signal?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss, Davey.”

“Wonder what he’s up to tonight.”

Or maybe Damian could try another approach.

Gordon looked annoyed. Then again, Batman would be annoyed too.

Freeze had swooped in, stolen quite a few pharmacy shipments, then vanished without a trace. With the entire shipment. No picking, no sorting, just took the entire trucks, drivers, and all. None of the drivers had been killed, but two were in the ICU being treated for various freezer burns.

Now, three days later, they had finally gotten a lead on where Freeze might be hiding. Gordon had determined it was a good mission to team up on and was currently going through the plan on the cold rooftop.

Detective Yin accompanied him and would have access to Batman’s com unit, along with Gordon and Agent A. Batman already had access to the GCPD radio so there was really no reason to tell Gordon that (although the man probably knew it and just claimed deniability) so the private signal was the only way to communicate during the mission.

They had just finished the briefing and Batman was waiting for the moment to “disappear” when a car alarm down the street went off.

Gordon sighed. “You’d think crooks would know better than to steal a car just down the street from a police station.”

“It could just be a malfunction,” Yin said.

Batman had time before the unit was mobilized and on the way. “I’ll check it out. Meet you at the rendezvous.” And thus, Bruce was unable to vanish into the shadows. Pity. He grappled off the building and glided down about three hundred yards to the flashing and beeping car. There was no one in sight. The only thing that looked even a bit out of place was the dent in the door and the metal chunk that was laying next to it.

“Batman.”

No matter what the cowl footage showed, Batman did not turn around as fast as he could or bite back a shout of surprise. He knew someone was behind him and was not startled at all . Nor was he surprised that it was Damian of all people. It was not a surprise.

It wasn’t.

Damian stepped out of the shadows, hands in his pocket. He shifted on his feet, clearly nervous but trying to hide it.

“Robin,” Batman replied, just as even. “I did not think you were one for vandalism.”

“I am not,” Damian shrugged, “But I was unsure of how else to get your attention.”

Fair point. “And why did you need my attention?” Several scenarios flashed through Bruce’s mind, each worse than the last. Had Roman turned violent? Was one of the boys missing? Had one of them come across something they really shouldn’t have?

“I need cough syrup.”

… That was not what Bruce had been expecting. “...Can you not get some at a store?”

“The store does not have any. The only thing the employee could tell me was it had been stolen.”

Ah, now that made much more sense. “Mister Freeze has stolen several pharmaceutical trucks with various medical supplies. The police and I are following a lead tonight.” Should have he told that sensitive information to a child? Probably not. Did he care? Not particularly. Robin could keep a secret.

“Why would Mister Freeze need cough syrup?” Damian demanded.

“He probably does not. He needs certain medicines to help in his experiments. The ones he needed were in the delivery truck. He chose to just take the truck instead of sorting the supplies out.” Batman paused, “As soon as we recover the supplies we will hopefully be able to return it to the stores. It should be by late afternoon tomorrow or the day after that.”

Damian cursed.

“Is something wrong?”

“...Where is Freeze right now?” Damian looked up, eyes determined. 

“I am not telling you that.”

“I am just curious.”

“No, you are not and I can’t have you interfering with a police investigation and raid.”

Damian glared at him. “I need the syrup and fever reducers by tonight.”

“Why?” Batman asked.

“None of your business,” Damian snapped back.

“...Where are your brothers?”

Damian continued to glare at him, ignoring the question.

Batman thought for a moment. “If I promise to bring you what you need, will you head home?”

“...By tonight?” Damian asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Batman nodded stiffly.

Damian appeared to debate about something, then returned the nod. “Very well. But I am holding you to this.”

“Go home, Damian.”

If Damian was surprised by the name, he did well at hiding it. He disappeared into the shadows just as quickly as he appeared.

Batman couldn’t help but snort. So that was what it was like to have someone sneak up on you. Maybe he’d go easy on Gordon. At least for a week. Maybe a month.

It was stupidly easy for Batman to sneak a bottle of cough syrup and ibuprofen out of Freeze’s stash before the police raid even started. He just knocked out two goons, opened the truck, grabbed the items, then grappled to the roof. He left them there until the actual raid was done, Freeze’s men were in cuffs, and Freeze himself was on his way to Arkham.

A dismissal from Gordon was all Batman needed and he zipped up to the roof. The items were pocketed and off he went. It was almost three in the morning by the time he arrived at the Bird’s apartment. The plan was simple. Leave the medicine on the fire escape, rap on the window, then zip away and out of sight before one of the boys saw.

Damian ruined that plan immediately.

The moment Batman touched down on the fire escape, the window was shoved open and Damian held out his hands. “Well?”

Batman stared at him for a moment, then reached into the cape to produce the two bottles. Damian snatched the medicine away and replaced it with a few green bills. “For your time,” he explained, then retreated inside without another word.

Batman was left on a fire escape, fifteen dollars in hand. Bruce hesitated. He did not need the money at all so keeping it was out of the question. But where could he leave it so it didn’t blow away? The dumpster was out of the question. There was no way they would find it before someone else. Maybe he could just open the window and drop it inside? That would probably be best.

He pried the sill up a few inches and went to drop the bills inside when the sounds of a very wet, rough, and painful cough made him pause. Batman slid the window up, even more, allowing him to see into the room more clearly.

Jason was passed out on the bottom bunk to his right. He looked awful. There was really no other way to say it. Pale face, sweat dripping down his face, and clearly uncomfortable. The blankets were tied up around his limbs. His hoodie was in a pile next to the bed and it was the first time Bruce had ever seen Jason’s arms bare. What should have been smooth skin looked more like a battlefield. Cigarette burns laid as the base, small crater shapes painting the very ugly truth of Jason’s upbringing. They were all old, which gave Bruce some comfort--not enough to stop his teeth from clenching, but enough that he didn’t march down to Roman and throttle him right there. The more fresh scars were scattered and disorganized. Bruises from fights, cuts on fingers from glass (most likely break-in attempts gone wrong), and a few nasty scrapes and cuts from just general street life.

The coughs tore Bruce’s eyes away from the sight.

If Jason looked awful, Tim looked even worse. The boy was shivering, despite the fact that he was pressed against Dick’s side and had two blankets draped over him. He was pale and his coughs shook his whole body to the core.

Dick wasn’t much better, tossing and turning in his sleep. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded more like noise than words.

Damian was kneeling, back turned to Batman. If he knew Bats was there, he chose to ignore him. He had the cough syrup in hand and had a dose ready.

“Drake, stop coughing, I need you to take these,” Damian growled. He tried to pry Tim out of Dick’s grasp and sit him up, but Dick just moaned and held Tim even more tightly. Tim continued to cough, burying his face into Dick’s shirt.

One moment Batman was staring into the scene from the window, the next he was gently lifting Tim and Dick into a sitting position. Damian chose to ignore the vigilante in his room and forced the syrup down Tim’s throat, then Dick’s. Then Damian fetched the water bottle and had them swallow the Ibuprofen as well. They repeated the process on Jason, who actually woke up for a moment, but was too delirious to recognize what was happening.

Neither Damian or Batman spoke to one another as Damian took the three’s temperatures. He did not appear pleased at the numbers but was careful to hide the results from Batman. It was a little frustrating, but there was little he could do without forcing the boy, something he would definitely not be doing. So Bruce settled on just standing in a corner and waiting for a moment when Damian might need some assistance.

At five am, Bruce finally got a call from Alfred, who was a bit concerned about why he had not returned home. He slipped out the window to take it, but remained on the fire escape. Bruce quietly and quickly filled Alfred in on the situation. Alfred took the news with his usual stoic resolve then signed off with hardly another word.

Bruce was a bit confused by that. He returned to the room just as quietly as he left and if Damian heard the conversation, he did not acknowledge it. 

The Alfred mystery cleared a little less than an hour later when Alfred called the com again. “I suggest you check outside, sir.”

Bruce frowned but did as he was told. On the ground, just under the fire escape, was a large container of soup with four bowls and spoons ready to eat out of. He looked down the alley just in time to see a familiar black car drive by.

Damian made no comment about the food, but he did not dump it in the sink, so Bruce took that as a good sign. Soup was not breakfast food, but it was warm and just what the boys needed.

To make things even better, Alfred had brought it in a thermos.

Batman took his leave about seven am. He would check back tonight and plan from there. Perhaps he could get Leslie to make a house visit. Then again, she would insist on reporting Roman’s neglect to the police, something the Birds would be adamant against. Leslie would be in a worst-comes-to-worse situation. Perhaps he could Alfred come down and do a quick check.

He did leave a comlink with Damian. “Call me if it gets worse,” Batman told him as he climbed out the window.

Damian nodded stiffly. “Batman…” he called, then appeared to hesitate.

Batman did not move, waiting.

“Thank you.” 

And then the window slid shut.

Casefile: The Birds

Subjects:
Dick Grayson AKA “ Nightwing ”
Jason Todd AKA “ Jay Bird ”
Timothy Drake AKA “ Crow ”
Damian AKA “ Robin ”

Status: In progress

Opened: June 19th 20XX:

Closed: N/A

Reports:
June 19th- The Wharf
June 27th- (Robin) Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway
July 13th- Two-Face Bank Robbery
July 30th- (Civilian Interaction) Vreeland Charity Ball
August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin) Gotham Public Zoo
August 21st- Riddler, Gotham Park
August 30th- (Civilian Interaction) Gotham Street Fair
September 5th- (Jay Bird) Batmobile Vandalism
September 12th- (Robin) Freeze Caper
→open report←
Mister Freeze stole various medical shipments from Gotham Wharf (full report). Most were recovered intact and undamaged. Robin needed medicine for Nightwing, Crow, and Jay Bird, who have all fallen ill. I recovered the medicine and delivered it without incident. Robin trusted me enough to allow me into the apartment. Will be checking back on their progress.
It is unknown if Roman James is aware of his charges' illness or if he even cares.
--Add on, September 13th
Roman James does not seem aware of his charge’s health. All three appear to be doing better
--Add on, September 14th
Nightwing and Jay Bird have appeared to fully recover from their fevers. Crow is doing better and should be well by the end of the week.
→end report←  

Known affiliates: Roman James , foster parent. May James , foster worker.

Attached Evidence:
Security Footage , June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf
Security Footage , July 13th, Gotham City Bank
Security Footage , August 16th, Gotham Public Zoo
Batmobile Footage , September 5th, Crime Ally
Security Footage , September 12th, Corner Store

Connected Files and Reports:
Social Services, Dick Grayson
Autopsy Report, John and Mary Grayson
Accident Report, John and Mary Grayson
“The Flying Graysons” archive footage
1990-1992
1993-1995
1996-1999
2000-2002
2003-20XX
“Farwell Performance of the Flying Graysons”
Social Services, Jason Todd
Criminal Record, Willis Todd
Arrest Records, Willis Todd
Court Record, Willis Todd
Arrest Record, Cathrine Todd
Health Records, Cathrine Todd
Autopsy Report, Catherine Todd
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Catherine Todd
Social Services, Timothy Drake
Death Announcement, Janet Drake
Health Records, Janet Drake
Funeral Program, Janet Drake
Robbery Report, Drake Manor
Autopsy Report, Jack Drake
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Jack Drake
Social Services, Damian
Health Record, Damian
Department of State Records, Damian
Health Record, Timothy Drake
Health Record, Jason Todd
Health Record, Dick Grayson
Financial Records, Roman James
Phone Records, Roman James
Financial Records, May James
Phone Records, May James

Chapter Text

Tim was still recovering from his illness, but that didn’t mean he was still sick. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

Okay, maybe his nose was still a little runny and maybe his cough was still a little ragged, but he needed to get out of the apartment. The stuffy air was not helping his sinuses. (The main issues were gone. No more headaches, no more stuffy head, and no more weird hallucinations of Batman feeding him soup for some bizarre reason. Tim still did not understand why THAT had been a side effect to a fever, but whatever “his brain” you do you.)

So he laid in bed awake and listened as Dick snuck out, followed closely by Jason. He then pushed the covers off, grabbed his laptop in his bag, then softly spoke. “I’m going on the roof. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Damian didn’t answer or move an inch, his blankets rising and falling with each breath. Tim was never sure if the kid was awake or not, but he always told him when he was leaving. Unlike two other annoyances, he could name.

The night was chill, but not too cold. Yet. Tim had grabbed his thin blanket and pulled his hoodie up tightly around him before climbing up the fire escape to the roof. He sat away from the ledge and set up his antenna. A few short minutes later with turning dials and filtering the static, Tim finally settled down with his notebook in hand and began to translate all of the police codes filtering through his ears.

Street racers on Brown and Main… Gang fight in uptown… drug deal busted by the docks…

The night was slow overall, with the radio remaining silent for long periods of time. After almost an hour, Tim finally switched over to his preset marked, “Reality Radio”. The line was dead at the moment, but Tim knew if he waited long enough he’d hear something.

He was sketching the view in his notebook ten minutes later when the station finally crackled to life. “I think we’ve done all we can tonight, Agent A.”

Tim almost dropped his pen, then quickly jotted down the sentence.

“Very good, sir. Shall I bring your meal down or would you prefer to eat upstairs?”

Tim rolled his eyes, still scribbling. He spoke aloud to no one. “Downstairs, duh.”

“Downstairs is fine. I’ll be home short-“ the voice suddenly cut off and Tim paused, staring at the computer screen more than curious. “Correction. I’ll be home after I check on something.”

“Nefarious activities, sir?”

“No. I just spotted a bird who looks a little out of place. Batman out.”

Tim really did drop his pen that time and quickly turned his station to the radio. Classical music filled his headphones and he flipped his page back to his sketch.

Seconds later, something heavy landed behind Tim. The boy forced himself to pretend he hadn’t noticed, his hands shaking only a little. He hummed along with Beethoven and patiently waited for his visitor to make the first move.

Batman cleared his throat rather loudly, which worked out perfectly for Tim. He snapped his head up as if startled by the sudden appearance of Gotham’s Dark Knight. “Batman? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Batman came a few steps closer before motioning at the ground beside Tim. “May I sit down?”

Tim shrugged, “I don’t see why not.” He continued to draw the building in the distance, not quite getting his angels to match up. He quickly erased them and tried again.

Batman sat down beside him and watched for a moment. “You are a good artist.”

“Robin is better.” Tim shrugged again. It was true. Heck, Tim had no doubt that the kid could make a living out of it in the future.

Batman did not comment on that fact, but Tim suspected he filed it away. “What are you doing up here? Alone?”

Tim shrugged. It was a neutral action and hid his nerves pretty well. “Nightwing’s out being his daredevil self and Jay Bird is probably sneaking into someone’s house. Again. Robin’s asleep downstairs. Or maybe he is getting ready to run in the morning, who knows with him.”

“I asked about you. Not your brothers.”

Tim visibly flinched at the word despite his best efforts.

Batman noticed. Of course, he did, he’s the world’s greatest detective. “I’m sorry, I just assumed-“

“They’re brothers,” Tim interrupted. “I’m more of a… cousin.” That was a good word for it. Sometimes wanted and sometimes not. Mostly not.

Batman did not say anything for a long time. Tim kept sketching the same line over and over until it was just black and permanently on the page. The silence was a bit unnerving. It made Tim feel like he had said something wrong-- which he hadn’t.  Or at least, he did not think he had.

Finally, Batman repeated his original inquiry. “What are you doing up here?”

Tim pointed at the laptop. “Listening to the radio.”

Batman leaned closer and began to read the radio presets aloud. “Classical music… Talk radio… Today’s hits… Reality radio… Police scanners ?”

Tim flinched and mentally began to berate himself. He seriously needed to change that name to smooth jazz. No one in his room would listen to smooth jazz. “I… uh, well, I listen to the police radios and translate the codes.”

Batman might have raised an eyebrow, but Tim couldn’t tell from the cowl. “Why?”

“For fun.” Tim shrugged again, trying to keep his cool. Alright Tim, do NOT mention the hacking bit.

“… Any reason, in particular, you find it fun?”

“Well, it’s like a giant puzzle or riddle,” Tim explained with a signature Drake smile. Bright, forced, and just wide enough to look real, but not wide enough to look creepy. “I’ve always loved puzzles. Some nights, the radio is alive. Other nights, like tonight, for example, it’s practically dead.”

Batman nodded. “I use the police radio myself to help keep track of crimes committed and any leads that pop up.”

“I know,” Tim said without thinking. Batman gave him a look of confusion and Tim quickly backtracked, “I mean, I assumed you would . You’re a vigilante and radios can be a source of information, right?”

“Right…” Batman continued to look at him and Tim had to force himself to keep his eyes on the paper. Keep it cool, keep it together, don’t worry, he isn’t going to kill you… most likely.

Batman abruptly stood to his feet. “I should get going. It was nice to talk to you, Crow. I am glad you are feeling better.”

Tim smiled and waved politely. He tried not to think about why Batman knew he had been sick. “Nice talking to you too, Batman. Don’t be a stranger.” Tim almost smacked himself for that sentence. Don’t be a stranger? Seriously?!

Batman shot off one of his grapple lines and went flying through the air. He disappeared into the dark only seconds later. Tim had to force himself to count to thirty Mississippi before flipping his radio back to “Reality Radio.”

“-scanners. Goodness gracious, sir. At least young Timothy is feeling better in his health.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll see you soon, Alfred.”

“Very good, Master Bruce. Dinner will be waiting.”

The line went dead and Tim had to chuckle. Sometimes, Batman amazed him. Other times, he couldn’t believe how no one seemed to put together a certain Billionaire and a certain Bat.

Especially when they couldn’t make up their mind of if they should use code names on the radio or not.

Chapter Text

It was probably around eleven pm when Dick climbed out the window and onto the fire escape. He ignored the ladder and swung himself over the side, dropping down onto the dumpster below. He pulled his hood on tight and checked that his bag had water and a late-night snack before sprinting off into the streets.

The moon above was bright and full. For once, there was no rain or clouds covering it up. The light painted the rooftops and ledges in a soft glow. In other words, it was an excellent night for parkour.

Tonight, Dick headed in the direction of uptown. The buildings were nicer and less crime-ridden (which wasn’t saying much in Gotham but he’d take what he could get). Mostly the higher class citizens and, as Jason called them, snobs lived there. It was an area of town that the four usually avoided. Too many suspicious eyes at children running around alone for comfort. But at this time, Dick was confident enough that they were asleep or too drunk to care. Besides, he had no intention of staying on the streets. Tonight was an excellent day to take to the rooftops.

He had to be careful getting to the roof on these buildings. The elevator would be preferred but there were some fire escapes that lead up partway. The rest of the experience involved a lot of… maneuvering. If Jason saw him now, Dick had no doubt he would receive a punch or two in the morning. But Dick barely spared a look down. The world blurred and before he could blink Dick was on the roof.

He stayed there for some time, catching his breath and drinking water to rehydrate. He spared a glance at his watch and actually did a double-take. How in Gotham was it already two in the morning? No wonder he was so exhausted!

Dick’s hands were a little scuffed from the climb and he must have cut his arm at some point based on the stinging slice on his forearm. But that was why he brought bandages in his bag. He ate his granola bars while he was at it and after some quick stretches, he was ready.

He took off the roof and leaped. The drop from that roof to the next was not too high but it was enough to get Dick’s stomach to flip. And he loved it. Running, flipping, sprinting, flying across the rooftops made everything around him just… disappear. There were no worries on the roofs. No problems, no sorrows, no complaints, nothing but the wind in Dick’s face and the city lights that flickered below. If he concentrated hard enough he could just pretend it was another night at the circus. Another night of laughs and thrills.

And did he ever miss that view.

Batman was on patrol a late September night when he heard a noise that didn’t match the windy alleys and distant sirens. He frowned, suspecting a late-night robber was scoping out his target or some other criminal activity at work. As silently as possible, he followed the sounds, still not one hundred percent sure what they were.

As Batman drew closer, the noises grew louder. He identified metal of some sort and scraping and scuffs that indicated movement. They sounded in a hurry. Perhaps they already had finished their job and were now on the run.

Well, they were in for the surprise of their life.

Batman finally caught sight of the figure, dashing between several AC units. He hurried quietly after them. He moved around the roof until he finally got a clear view of the perpetrator. And then he received the surprise of his life.

A very familiar blue hood was running across Gotham’s rooftops. Batman did a double-take and checked the area for anyone who might be chasing the boy or something. He found nothing. Batman turned back just in time to see--

-Dick jump off the roof.

And holy Batman , the vigilante’s heart stopped for a second too long. He moved to intercept, but before he even got even three steps, Dick had slid against the side of the building wall and jumped off against it at an angle. He did a flip and managed to grasp the fire escape, pulling himself to safety and continued to climb up the opposite structure. As soon as he reached the top, he shot off again in the direction of the next apartment building.

Bruce stood there for a moment and tried to remember how to breathe. He had seen a lot of things during his time as Batman. And that-- that right there had terrified him more than any bullet whizzing by his head or a knife bearing down. By the time he gathered himself together, Dick was at least half a block away.

But by Gotham, he was not going to remain that way.

Dick had stopped to take a break for a moment, sipping his water and snacking on his last granola bar. He stood up, stretched, and got ready to take off again. Only this time, he didn’t even have time to figure out which way to go when a strong pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him backward.

First thought: crazy villain is trying to kill me.  

Dick fell backward and allowed gravity to take hold, rolling to the ground onto his back. Using his hands and the momentum he had built up, Dick managed to slam his legs into whoever was behind him and do a complete backward somersault, coming to a crouch and ready to fight or run.

Second thought: why is said villain dressed as Batman?

Final thought: Oh snap! I just kicked Batman!

Batman grunted from the impact, but his body armored absorbed most of the hit only knocking him back a foot or two. The kid was stronger than he looked. Faster too.

Dick popped up to his feet, clearly mortified. “Ohmygosh, Batman! I didn’t mean to- well, I did mean to, but I didn’t know it was you , otherwise, I wouldn’t have- oh Gotham, I am so sorry!”

Batman waved the apology aside, “Never mind that, Nightwing. I startled you. I would have reacted the same way.” Which was true. Grabbing the kid without any warning was definitely not his smartest move, but the last thing Bruce wanted was for the kid to take another leap. He’d seen enough of those tonight.

Dick felt his face burn red and he pulled his hood on more securely, praying the Bat couldn’t see the embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t hurt you, right?” Oh Gotham , if he had injured Batman he would never forgive himself.

“Again: never mind that .” Batman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m more concerned about the fact that you jumped off an apartment building without any regard for your safety.”

Dick frowned. His worry faded into confusion. “I’ve jumped from higher. It’s not that bad.”

Bruce felt his heartbeat pick up and he forced himself to take a deep breath. “You could have been seriously injured, Dick. Or been killed.”

Dick took a moment to process that statement. He knew what he was doing. He never took unnecessary risks or took a jump he knew he couldn’t make. Yeah, he might have sprained a wrist or ankle but… wait a second, what did the Bat call him? “ How do you know - oh, what am I saying? You’re Batman. The world’s greatest detective. Of course, you know my name.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Batman grunted. “Why did you jump?”

Dick sighed loudly. “Whatever you are thinking, Batman… That’s not it.” He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation. Might as well take the time to rest. Dick sat down and pulled his water bottle back out and sipped some more water.

“What I think is you are doing something reckless… extremely reckless.” Batman sat down across from the boy, trying to keep his voice even.

“I’m not trying to die, Batman. I promise.” Dick twirled his hood’s drawstring, winding it around his hand, then unwinding it. “I like the height, the wind, the thrill, the adrenaline. It’s hard to explain. And ever since I’ve left the circus, I don’t get to do that anymore.”

Bruce swallowed down the surge of emotions and managed to keep his voice even. “It’s an unhealthy outlet, Nightwing. You may not want to die, but what happens when these drops get dull? You have to up the height, the excitement, the thrill, to get the same feeling.” Batman pointed up at Wayne Towers, the tallest building in the city, “And maybe you’ll find yourself all the way up there one day. And I am pretty sure you don’t have a grapple to swing to safety from that.”

Dick didn’t answer. Instead, he took another long sip of water from his water bottle.

Batman let out a soft sigh. “How long have you been doing this?”

“... Maybe three to four years. I think I started six months after… the accident.”

“What is the farthest you have dropped?” Batman paused. “As in a free fall, basic drop.”

“Uh…” Dick thought for a moment, “You probably don’t want to know.”

“ Nightwing .”

“... Four stories?”

Bruce stood up and started pacing, his heart pounding. 

Dick grumbled something about how he hadn’t been injured severely and it had not been one hundred percent intentional, but Bruce wasn’t listening.

Half the people who fell from that kind of height died . That was as far as the drop that killed Dick’s parents! He took a deep breath and tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “This has to stop.”

Dick stiffened. “Batman, I’m fine .”

“This is serious, Dick.”

“I said that I’m fine!” The boy stood to his feet, clearly frustrated. “Look, I understand your concerns. Jay shares them and there is a reason I don’t tell Crow and Robin about these trips. But I am a trained professional. I know my limits and I know how to take care of myself. You cannot just take away the one thing that connects me to my--” His voice broke and Dick’s hands were now shaking. “Please… you barely even know me. There is no reason for you to care, so just leave me alone.” 

Batman stood in silence, having a silent debate within himself. There was no way he could sleep at night knowing a twelve year old child thought jumping across roofs was a good idea. But… Bruce could understand wanting to connect to dead parents. He thought for several minutes, picking apart ideas and throwing them out just as quickly. 

Dick watched him, trying not to appear nervous or afraid. He could do this. He could stand up to a Bat… at least, he hoped.

Batman seemed to come to a conclusion. He knelt down on a knee so he was at eye level with Dick, which helped the boy’s nerves (but only a little). “How about a deal?”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What kind of deal?”

“Every… let’s say Tuesday night at ten pm I meet you here. For one hour, you can do whatever you want and I’ll spot you.”

Dick opened his mouth to protest but was stalled by the Bat holding up a hand. He still had his trump card to play. “In exchange, I will not turn you and your brothers into the foster workers.”

Dick’s mouth dropped open and nothing came out of it for a moment. He opened and closed it like a gapping fish before he managed to gasp out, “...that’s blackmail .”

Batman gave him a look. “You are in a bad living situation, which most kids would be desperate to get out of. You four have found not only ways to survive but thrive with one another. I trust that none of you are in immediate danger but… I would feel better to have weekly updates on you and your brothers.”

“We’re fine.” And they were. Mostly. Crow’s sickness had been a close call, but they were fine .

“But you could be better,” Batman argued. “If you were completely fine, I don’t think you would be on this roof in the middle of the night.” He paused. “Think of it as a security blanket for not only you but for your brothers.”

Dick had to admit there was an appeal to that. Like a backup plan in case Roman suddenly turned violent or if someone got really sick again. It was Gotham, a lot of bad things happened. And having a spotter wasn’t… bad, per se. He remembered his parents spotting him and each other. It was a safety precaution, not a disabling lock. But… 

Dick put his hands on his hips and glared up at the man, “I cannot promise I won’t come out on other nights.” Which was true.

Batman hesitated before conceding. “Just promise me you will try and hold off till Tuesdays. If something comes up on my end, I will leave a message for you and we can reschedule.” Batman held out a hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.” Dick shook the Bat’s hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me--” Dick turned and jumped. He slid down and jumped sideways off the brick onto a closed dumpster. He jumped down, landed, then took off running down the streets.

Bruce watched him go, his nerves twisting and turning in his stomach. What had he just signed up for? He didn’t want Dick on the roof at all but… this seemed like a good compromise. 

Right? 

He needed to talk to Alfred about this. 

And maybe Leslie. 

And maybe Lucius. 

And Clark. Definitely Clark.

Chapter Text

Some nights the Birds would go without anyone having a nightmare. Most nights involved at least one past experience flaring up in the forefront of someone’s mind, but not all of those dreams equaled a long and sleepless night. Sometimes.

But most of the time, they weren’t so lucky. All of them could recall past nights when someone woke up screaming or crying or both. But most of the time it was just unpleasant jolts into realities that involved sitting up in bed and breathing hard.

And then there were the rare occasions, all four of them would jolt awake from various night demons that had decided to grace their apartment that particular night.

When that happened, they had little activities they would do. Sometimes they would tell one another scary stories (which may not be the best idea, but it gave Dick an excuse to hug someone so…). Other times, there would be a comfort circle to help chase the darkness away. On the rare occasion, Dick would let all four of them go out at night and they’d wander the rooftops or the streets as cautiously as possible. While rare, these nights did happen and while they started bad, they usually ended good (mostly).

This particular evening started when Jason came home around eight pm. He’d been on the streets most of the day and had come back sporting several new bruises and a nasty cut on his head. The blood had dried and in order to clean it properly, Dick had to scrap the dry scab off. Tim cleaned the wound in silence and Damian made a comment about the smell, before climbing into bed.

Tim woke up sobbing only an hour later, the blood having brought the night his father died back to the forefront of his mind. The sobs brought Dick back to the land of the living (and out of his own nightmare about his parents) and as he tried to calm himself and Tim down, Then Jason bolted awake in his bunk, drenched in a cold sweat. Dick knew by now that he wouldn’t talk about the dream, but he could guess what happened. The beating from today must have sent Jay back to one of the several times his father had hit him.

Jason joined the other two in Tim’s bed without a sound and Dick wasn’t even surprised when Damian climbed out of bed and joined them only seconds later. The kid had always been a light sleeper.

A few words were exchanged but for the most part, it was quiet. Dick was sitting against the wall, Tim in a hug. Jason sat on the foot of the bed, staring at the floorboards while tracing old scars on his arms. Damian just sat in the middle of the bed, legs tucked against his chest. Dick tried to convince him into a hug, but Damian had (semi-politely) refused.

After sitting up for an hour, it became rather clear that no one would be sleeping anytime soon. Thus, Dick exercised his “oldest brother” authority and allowed for a trip to the apartment roof for some “stargazing”.

And by that, they literally meant ‘star’ as there was usually only a single star visible if it wasn’t raining. Generally, they counted how many planes flew overhead. Tim would point to sections of the sky where he thought constellations were hiding and rattle off the myths behind them until Jason either interrupted with his own versions of the myths or Damian would interrupt with questions about the two bears in the sky.

“Why bears?”

“Robin, we do this every time. ” Dick protested.

Tim and Damian ignored him. “Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. According to some myths, the big bear was one of Zeus’s many girlfriends and the baby bear was his kid. In order to keep them safe from Hera’s wrath, Zeus turned them into bears. But when some hunter came to shoot them, he quickly turned them into stars, thus keeping them safe in the sky for eternity.”

“Yes, yes” Damian growled impatiently, “You’ve said all this before. But why bears ? I mean, he was Zeus, the god of gods. Couldn’t he have turned them into something a little less…” he paused, “lame?”

Tim opened his mouth to protest that bears were NOT lame but Jason reached over and clasped a hand over it. He gave Tim a death glare. “Oh, no . I am not listening to you spew out fun facts about bears like a leaking faucet.”

Dick chuckled and Tim smiled sheepishly but kept silent. Damian stretched out on his back, with a large yawn.

“Aw, is the baby bird getting tired?” Dick teased gently.

Damian glared at him, “It’s two am. Of course, I’m tired!”

Dick opened his mouth to continue to tease, but it turned into a yawn before he could utter one syllable.

Jason rolled his eyes, “You’re supposed to be Nightwing. Not Sleep wing.”

“Shut up, Jay.” Dick shot back, getting to his feet. He wandered over to the side of the building and sat down, dangling his feet off the edge. Jason joined him a short time later and growled under his breath so the others wouldn’t hear him. “Don’t even think about it.”

Dick glanced down at the distant ground and swallowed the urge to leap down, shooting Jason a winning smile, “Whatever do you mean, Jay Bird?”

Jason didn’t say a word, but the look on his face was enough. ‘You know exactly what I mean you idiot and I will pin you to the ground if you even move off the edge an inch.’

Before Dick could come up with a plausible excuse, Tim caught everyone’s attention as he pointed to the south. “Uh, guys? I think someone is coming this way.”

The four of them turned in the direction their brother had indicated and squinted into the darkness. Dick thought he could make out a shadowy figure, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.

Besides, there was only one person that traveled by roof at night (well, only one person besides them) and Dick was not really sure now was a good time to meet him. Their new “deal” had only been going on for two weeks (who knew the Bat could be such a worrywart) and he wasn’t in the mood for Damian and Tim to find out about his jumping habits through the big bad Bat.

“Let’s get inside.” Dick swung down to the fire escape, dropping down onto the metal grating with a light ‘thud’. He chose to ignore the withering glare from Jason.

“Come on, Wing,” Tim protested, “Batman may want to talk to us.”

“What on earth would flippin’ Batman want to talk to us?” Jason demanded, but he made no movement to the fire escape. Damian didn’t speak, but his body language conveyed he wanted to stay and see what happened. Dick was outnumbered.

Before Dick could decide if this argument was worth fighting, the shadowy figure came crawling up the other side of the building.

And only then did the four of them realize it wasn't Batman. No, Batman was actually two blocks away, hurrying in their direction. They could see the large cape spread out in the sky as he glided down.

This figure was entirely the wrong gender. But hey, at least the woman was wearing black. She had on a jumpsuit that was a little too tight, in Dick’s honest opinion. A side bag was slung around her and a long whip held loosely in her right hand. Her hair was hidden by the cowl and her eyes were covered with some amber goggles shaped like large cat eyes. She looked surprised to see the four of them, which Dick took as a good sign. If she was surprised, then they were not planned targets.

Still, Jason grabbed his pipe (which he had insisted on bringing up with them and Dick was now grateful for it) and Damian held his fists up ready to fight. Dick stepped in front of him, ignoring the grunt of annoyance, ready to flip in if needed.

The woman had been running and now slowed to a stop about ten feet away. “What are you kittens doing up here? It’s rather cold.”

Of course, Tim shivered at that exact moment and Dick made another note in his head to stop by the local thrift stores with some money and get some thicker coats before winter truly hit. Fall was going much quicker than Dick remembered.

The woman looked concerned, but then Batman arrived and she turned her attention elsewhere. “Aww… don’t be such a sourpuss, Batman. It was just a little statue.” She taunted, leaping out of reach as the man lunged.

Batman growled in frustration. He understood that Selina liked to play with him, but this was getting ridiculous. She had broken into a museum, stole a jeweled statue of a cat that was on loan from some rich Gothamite (the elite class honestly needed to stop putting cat-themed valuables into public Gotham. Just keep it in your safe and maybe Catwoman wouldn’t steal it. Maybe). Thus the hour-long cat chase across the city that Bats had just had to get roped into. And to top it all off, the Birds were out of their room again at unearthly hours. And although he trusted Selina more than most criminals, he did not want her anywhere near them.

Catwoman sprung back after another lunge and found herself back on the other side of the roof facing Batman and the four little kittens in colored hoods. She frowned slightly at the sight, Batman holding a Batarang in each hand, tensed and ready to throw them if he found a reason. One of the smaller kittens, the one in black, took a step closer to the Bat, his eyes locked on her filled with curiosity and… fear? “Batman?” he asked nervously, flicking his eyes from the bat to the cat.

To Selina’s shock, Batman became even more defensive, taking a step towards her- not a lunge for her bag, but an offensive move all the same. She frowned even deeper. Something about this scene was familiar to her. Something she had seen before… 

Batman finally spoke, but not to her. “Nightwing, Jay, take your brothers inside.”

The one in blue nodded before speaking, “Jay Bird, back off.”

So, they were birds. Not kittens. Selina couldn’t help but be disappointed at that little fact.

Red glanced over at blue. His stance didn’t move a bit, ready to pounce like, well a cat. This one obviously was the wild one, choosing his own path. His words were directed at Selina. “Aren’t you Catwoman?” he asked, cocking his head to one side in curiosity.

Selina raised an eyebrow, “Who else would I be, little bird?”

The smallest one, the one in gray, made a soft click with his tongue, “That’s just bad taste.”

“Excuse me?” Catwoman hissed. She gripped her whip tightly and tried to suppress the wave of anger that rose up. So what if she liked cats? It was no different than a certain vigilante who was obsessed with bats!

Batman took another step forward, his eyes narrowing into one of his death glares and Selina actually stepped back a few feet. Bruce had never acted like this to her. Sure, he was angry and brooding. That was one thing she liked about him. But this was entirely different. He was tight as a string, ready to strike at the littlest movement from her. It looked just like a mother cat when something was threatening her litter-- 

Oh.

Selina knelt down slowly, putting her whip on the ground and slinging the bag with her precious cargo off her shoulder. She stood back up, hands in the air, palms facing forward. Her voice was gentle, empty of the usual playful ring she usually used when she ran into the Bat. “I am Catwoman. May I ask who you are?”

Batman’s body lost a little tension. It was only the slightest of changes, but she still noticed.

The little birds exchanged looks before the red one spoke up, “I’m Jay Bird.” He lowered his pipe down slowly but kept his eyes on her.

Gray spoke up next, “Robin. And you give cats a bad name.”

Selina raised an eyebrow but remained calm. Batman relaxed a little more, now standing straight up.

Blue gave a short nod, “Nightwing. The quiet one is Crow.”

Crow waved his fingers in a timid gesture and Selina felt a smile pull at her mouth. She turned her eyes back to Robin and slowly lowered her hands down and gestured at him, “Care to elaborate on why I ‘give cats a bad name’?”

Robin folded his arms, “You’re a thief. A criminal. Need I go on?”

“Cats are thieves,” Selina pointed out with a small smirk, “They have to eat. Think of my… catches as just my food.”

Robin didn’t look convinced, but Selina wasn’t paying too much attention. Batman had put one of his batarangs away and the determination in his eyes was now a dull flicker compared to the wall that had stood. He spoke gently to the little birds, “It’s late. You all should be in bed.”

Jay made a sound of protest but was elbowed by Nightwing. Hard. Selina had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the show.

“Yes, sir.” Nightwing dutifully herded the other three to the fire escape, despite some voices of protest mixed with large yawns. Batman watched as they vanished before ghosting to the edge of the roof and looking down. He stood there for a few moments before seeming satisfied, then turned back to Catwoman, who was now sitting on the ground.

She fingered her whip but made no move to use it. “So… who were they?”

“No one.” Batman chopped back in a tone that clearly screamed, ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ .

Selina rolled her eyes, “Bruce, I’m not going to hurt them. You know that, right?” She reached over and took his hand in hers. “Who are they?” The question was gentle but firm.

Bruce sighed, pinching his nose, “They’re some orphans I’ve had several encounters with.”

“What is with the code names?” Selina shook her head, “And don’t try and convince me those were their real names.”

Bruce chuckled despite himself. “They actually had them before we met. I think it was an attempt from Nightwing to try and get his brothers to have fun and be normal children.” His expression darkened. “Not that it helped.”

Selina frowned. “What do you mean?”

Bruce looked off into the distance, pulling his hand away from her. “Don’t you have a statue you want to keep?”

Selina glanced at her bag and hesitated only for a second, “I’d rather hear about your little birds.”

He scoffed. She punched him in the shoulder. “I’m serious, Bruce!”

He had the nerve to look surprised when she picked up the bag and handed it to him with barely a hesitation. She could steal the statue another time. This… this was new. “Tell me about them.”

Bruce hesitated, looking around at the empty night. “Not here.” He slung the bag over his shoulder then sprinted off the building, landing safely on the other side. Selina picked up her whip and chased after him, for once. He didn’t stop until the two were safely perched on top of the old clock tower, far from any prying ears or eyes.

Bruce pushed back his cowl, then began the story from the beginning. Selina listened in silence, only interrupting to ask a clarifying question. The picture he painted was a grim one full of loss and heartache enough to fill several lifetimes. One that Selina knew for herself and saw every day, but this time it felt… different. There was sorrow and fear but there was also… hope. Love. Something that most of Gotham didn’t seem to understand or even try to. The story took an hour and by the time he finished, she was shivering hard enough for Bruce to notice. He took his cape off and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Normally, she would have protested, but she let it slide. He was a gentleman, after all. Besides, her thoughts were too scattered to summon the protest. There was a lot to process and she remained silent for a long time. Finally, she spoke.

“Bruce… what are you planning?” Surely he was not going to leave them in that awful situation.

He didn’t answer immediately. “I’m not sure.”

Selina managed to keep a passive face and not snort. Not sure? How was he not sure?

Bruce didn’t notice. “Part of me wants to get involved. All of them deserve a good home- a better home than the one they have. But at the same time…” He leaned back on his hands, “Although it was never outright said, they have hinted at why the four of them haven’t called anyone about the neglect. They want to stay together. And finding another person to take in four boys?” He shrugged, “That’s hard .”

Selina rolled her eyes but did not comment on the very obvious solution that was currently staring out in his brooding way at the city below. 

This man--

Selina stood up. She handed the cape back to Bruce and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you for telling me about them. They are some special little birds.” Catwoman pulled her cowl back over her head then ran off the roof, free-falling for several feet before swinging to safety, leaving the Bat alone with his thoughts.

For the next little while, Selina made sure to frequent the downtown area of Gotham. She told herself it was just because she had never really climbed the buildings properly, or some old cat treasure might be buried in the thrift shops and antique stores.

It was only a coincidence when she happened to be going in the same direction as Robin and his army of cats. And it was just by circumstance that she was passing by when Jay Bird broke into a store late one night that he hadn’t properly disabled the alarm system (and it was only polite for her to do it for him. He didn’t know, of course). And it was only luck when she traveled on the same roofs as Nightwing, watching him jump and leap like a small kitten. And it was simply curiosity when she watched Crow with his computer one night, as hacking into police radios was a skill she possessed, but she could always learn more from watching another. 

These were all coincidences. Nothing more. She was not checking in on these little birds. Not at all.

And even if she was, she didn’t think anyone would blame her. After all, when a Mother cat is provoked while protecting her litter, she scratches. Severely scratches.

And Selina really did not want to see what happened to someone who provoked Momma Bat’s anger.

Casefile: The Birds

Subjects:
Dick Grayson AKA “ Nightwing”
Jason Todd AKA “ Jay Bird”
Timothy Drake AKA “ Crow 
Damian AKA “ Robin”

Status: In progress

Opened: June 19th 20XX:

Closed: N/A

Reports:
June 19th- The Wharf
June 27th- (Robin) Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway
July 13th- Two-Face Bank Robbery
July 30th- Vreeland Charity Ball
August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin) Gotham Public Zoo
August 21st- Riddler, Gotham Park
August 30th- (Civilian Interaction) Gotham Street Fair
September 5th- (Jay Bird) Batmobile Vandalism
September 12th- Freeze Caper
September 17th- (Crow) Gotham Rooftop
September 26th- (Nightwing) Gotham Rooftop, 41st and Main
October 10th- Catwoman Robbery
→open report←
Catwoman stole a cat statue that was on display from the Gotham Museum of History (full report). She led me on a chase across the rooftops for over an hour before we encountered the Birds on their own roof (for once). Selina talked with them for a moment before I sent them back inside. They obeyed with some protest, but Nightwing took care of it.
→end report←  

Known affiliates: Roman James, foster parent. May James, foster worker.

Attached Evidence:
Security Footage, June 19th, Wayne Ent. Property, Gotham Wharf
Security Footage, July 13th, Gotham City Bank
Security Footage, August 16th, Gotham Public Zoo
Batmobile Footage, September 5th, Crime Ally
Security Footage, September 12th, Corner Store
Cowl Footage, September 17th, The Bird’s rooftop
Cowl Footage, Wing Observation, September 26th, 41st, and Main
Cowl Footage, Wing Observation, September 30th, 41st, and Main
Cowl Footage, Wing Observation, October 7th, 41st, and Main
Cowl Footage, October 10th, The Bird’s rooftop

Connected Files and Reports:
Social Services, Dick Grayson
Autopsy Report, John and Mary Grayson
Accident Report, John and Mary Grayson
“The Flying Graysons” archive footage
1990-1992
1993-1995
1996-1999
2000-2002
2003-2006
“Farwell Performance of the Flying Graysons”
Social Services, Jason Todd
Criminal Record, Willis Todd
Arrest Records, Willis Todd
Court Record, Willis Todd
Arrest Record, Cathrine Todd
Health Records, Cathrine Todd
Autopsy Report, Catherine Todd
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Catherine Todd
Social Services, Timothy Drake
Death Announcement, Janet Drake
Health Records, Janet Drake
Funeral Program, Janet Drake
Robbery Report, Drake Manor
Autopsy Report, Jack Drake
Gotham Gazette, Obituaries page, Jack Drake
Social Services, Damian
Health Record, Damian
Department of State Records, Damian
Health Record, Timothy Drake
Health Record, Jason Todd
Health Record, Dick Grayson
Financial Records, Roman James
Phone Records, Roman James
Financial Records, May James
Phone Records, May James

Chapter Text

It was the day before Halloween and Dick was already stressed as it was. He’d never celebrated Halloween with his brothers before. Halloween in Gotham was never known for being exactly "safe". But, he had been inspired by the events of the last few months to try it out.

And who could blame him? Dick had had more interactions with the Dark Knight of Gotham in the past six months than most police officers had in two years. They had survived encounters with the Penguin, Two-Face, The Riddler, and Catwoman (although that last one had barely counted). After all that adventure, they needed a day of laughs and fun. None of the boys had disagreed with the idea and so Dick had gotten to work trying to save enough money for some form of costumes (most of them consisted of dollar store masks and plain white t-shirts they drew haphazard superhero symbols onto. Damian insisted on being Batman, Jason called Wonder Woman (“She’s a bada--, uh, the best and if one of you want to make a comment about it then you can kiss your Christmas present goodbye.”), and Dick claimed Superman to simply annoy Jason and Damian. Tim debated for a bit before deciding on one of the Green Lanterns (“You all picked the golden trio. Who else could I have picked?” “Ya want a list?”).

So yes, Dick was a little annoyed to be shaken awake the day before their planned fun evening out. Tim at least looked sorry and quietly informed him of the very common Damian situation.

Dick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of all the days, Damian-- Don’t get it wrong, Dick loved the kid and would never leave him alone on the streets. But some days were just not good days and Damian was generally good at keeping his running off days away from “important dates”.

Dick would later curse himself for not seeing that first red flag. Maybe then things would have turned out differently.

But instead of seeing the blaring alarm, Dick just saw Jason slipping on his coat and shoes. He slipped his large pocket knife in his back pocket and his trusty metal pipe in his backpack. Dick pretended to not see the lockpicks that were also slid into the front pocket of his bag (he knew Jason would prioritize Damain before anything worth stealing). He didn’t even look at Dick when he said, “I’ll check downtown.”

“Uptown,” Dick managed to hide a yawn as he pushed his covers off. The cool air immediately bit into his skin and he was grateful when Tim handed him his own coat and shoes. Dick’s bag was more practical with a snack and water bottle being the main contents. He spared a glance over at Damian’s bed and was a little surprised to see his coveted Batarang poking out from under his pillow. It must have fallen out of his bag or something before he took off.

That was the second red flag. Dick cursed himself for not recognizing it as such.

It was more a ritual to the group than anything else. Damian liked certain areas of town and usually was found walking back in the general direction of the apartment (although he denied it). Jason started from one direction while Dick started from the other. They circled the blocks within an hour or so radius. If they hadn’t found him by noon, the radius increased to an hour and a half (which Damian had never appeared outside of).

So Dick was going through the motions of looking in the usual alleys, parks, and benches in his search area. He looked around for a few hours before returning to the apartment with the hope that Jason had found him and returned.

Tim was sitting on his bed, police scanner at full volume. No one else was there. It was almost noon. Tim shook his head at Dick’s questioning look. “Jason hasn’t checked back yet, so maybe they’re on their way?”

Dick frowned. Jason was usually faster than Dick in his searches (something to do with growing up as a street kid and not having to worry about avoiding some people). But hey, there was a first time for everything.

The third flag was up and flapping frantically in the wind. Dick still didn’t see it. 

“I’ll check,” Dick nodded at the computer. “Heard anything about runaways or something?”

“Nothing so far, but I’ll stay on it.”

“Thanks, Crow.” And with that, Dick jumped back down to the ground and headed off towards downtown. He checked the usual spots again and still nothing. He arrived at the end of the hour and a half zone with nothing to show for it. Dick sighed loudly. “Must have missed them or something…” he said to no one but himself.

It was almost three in the afternoon when he returned to the apartment. He was extremely confused when he slid the window open to find an empty apartment. Tim’s computer was gone and neither Jason nor Damian were sitting on their beds. Dick frowned at the sight and the weirdness of the situation was finally starting to make him pause.

There was a noise on the roof. It sounded a lot like a keyboard. Dick slid the window shut and climbed up to the roof. 

Now, for some reason, Tim had left the semi-warmth of the apartment in favor of the freezing cold tile. The boy was bent over his screen, shivering. Dick almost told him it was stupid to be up here but before he could get a word in, Tim saw him.

And he looked terrified.

Tim yanked his dollar store earbuds out and stumbled over. Dick slung himself up the rest of the way and away from the edge just in time for Tim to practically tackle him with a hug.

Dick’s heart rate picked up. “Tim, what’s wrong? What happened? What did you hear?” the questions spilled out of his mouth with hardly a breath.

Tim’s grip tightened around Dick. “I haven’t heard anything, but that’s not the problem because Jason never checked in!” Tim pulled back and Dick was now able to see the unshed tears in his eyes. “And I mean he never checked in. He hasn’t called Roman and nothing I have heard in the police reports hint at him or Damian!”

Dick tried to keep his voice light. He thought he did a good job for low-key panicking on the inside. There had to be a reason that wasn’t getting killed or kidnapped or trafficked or whatever else can happen in Gotham. “Tim, calm down… I’m sure the two of them are just… in a park. Or getting food. Or maybe Jason is showing Damian how to break into a car.”

Tim didn’t respond, but Dick read the silence. He didn’t believe Dick. And Dick wasn’t sure he believed himself.

He pulled back from the hug and forced himself to smile. “Come on, I’m sure they’re okay. They are probably just around the block. Let’s go look together, okay?”

Tim didn’t move for a moment before finally nodding assent. He shoved his gear into his messenger bag and the two retreated down the fire escape and to the ground.

“I’m… I’m sure they’re fine.” Dick repeated. “Maybe they are playing a practical joke.”

“Jason may like to tease, but he wouldn’t joke about this,” Tim said softly.

Dick silently agreed.

They looked around the block. And the next block. And the next one. Dick returned to the normal spots. He asked some of the pawn shops he knew Jason sold to if they had seen him. They hadn’t. 

He wished he could ask the alley cats the same thing about Damian. But he had this horrible feeling that it was going to be the same answer.

With each hour that passed, Tim got more and more nervous. Dick tried to hide his own worry by making jokes and providing silly reasons as to why Jason and Damian had not returned home yet. They didn’t help much, but he did get a few smiles and it kept his own panic down to a controllable level.

Around six, Dick stopped and bought them some hot dogs off a vendor, which neither of them felt like eating. After they finished what they could, Dick decided to return to the apartment. “I’m sure they’re there and probably just as worried about us as we are about them.” Dick internally prayed the two of them had just gotten turned around or had been forced to take a long route home.

All they found were four empty beds.

That was when Tim finally broke. He dropped to his knees and began to cry. “Dick? Where are they?”

Dick knelt down beside him and pulled him close, stroking his fingers through the boy’s hair. “I… I don’t know, Tim. But we’re going to find them. I promise.” He held his brother for several minutes, rocking him gently. “Shh… shh… I got you. I’m here.” He closed his eyes and felt his own tears slip down his face. Images of what could happen to two young boys on the streets flooded his mind and Dick had to swallow down the bile in this throat.

He couldn’t panic. If he panicked, then Tim would panic.

He needed to tell someone. The first thought was Roman. But would Roman even care? Heck, Dick could see Roman finding out and just claiming they were runaways to the police. Which they were definitely not (despite Damian’s habits) and there was no shaking the feeling something was horribly wrong. 

The next person who came to mind was a bit surprising to him. Batman did say he wanted updates on the Birds. The only problem with that was that their parkour appointment had been two days before and Dick was not due to see him for another five. Five days was much too long and Dick had no way of actually contacting the Bat short of calling 9-1-1 and hoping they patched him through.

But maybe they could find him tonight. It was too early for the Bat to be out now but in a few hours… It wasn’t an amazing plan, but it was better than nothing.

For now, Dick needed to focus on comforting Tim. He held his little brother and hummed the old Romani lullaby his mom used to sing for him after a nightmare. Tim had heard it many times before and tried to hum along with him. It came out broken and choppy, but Dick didn’t mind. It was all he could do to not scream. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed this was all just a nightmare.

Currently asleep Tim felt his pillow stiffen. Which was weird because pillows were supposed to be soft, not stiff. He blinked slowly awake to look up at his brother Dick. It was dark out now and it took a moment to remember why he was asleep on the floor and being held by Dick. The events of the day came flooding back and Tim chewed on his lower lip. “Nigh-?” he began but found his voice cut off by the gentle, but firm hand Dick pressed over his mouth. 

Tim frowned. Dick quietly shushed him, turning his gaze back to the window. Tim’s eyes followed, feeling confused.

The fire escape creaked as someone began to climb up it.

Now, all of the Birds had memorized the creaks and squeaks they each made when they each climbed up and down. Damian was light and made very little noise, Jason was the loudest and heaviest in step, Dick was quick, and made little contact with the floor, using the rails and walls more than the actual steps, and Tim was somewhere between Jason and Dick’s sound levels.

These footsteps were much heavier than Jason’s and much louder than Damian’s.

The fear that had been building up all day was now in Tim’s throat. He made no effort to even fight Dick as the boy shoved Tim under the bunk bed. Dick crawled in after him and had just enough time to situate himself as a large shadow crossed their window.

And then stopped.

Based on the size and shape, Tim had to guess an adult male. At first, he thought it might be Batman. But the figure’s hair was sticking out all over the place with no “pointed ears’ in sight.

Definitely not Batman.

The figure stood in the window frame for several minutes, peering inside. Tim had no idea how he didn’t hear his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Tim was barely even breathing but each exhale sounded like a hurricane of sound.

The shadow finally turned around and the sounds of them creeping down the escape were heard a short time later.

Tim and Dick let out a loud sigh at the same time, then clutched one another, shaking in fear. After a few minutes, Dick finally spoke, his voice barely loud enough to register. “We… we’re not safe here. We need to leave.”

Tim could only nod, only one thought going through his mind on repeat.

Batman. They needed to find Batman.

Dick carefully rolled out into the open. He peeked out the window and stayed there for a moment. He waved for Tim to climb out but kept his gaze outside. He whispered quickly and quietly, “I’m going to grab what money we have and a few pieces of clothing… You go to the pantry and get some food for us, okay?” Dick wrenched his eyes from the window. “Be quiet and grab enough for a few days. I’ll join you at the front door when I’m done here.”

Tim nodded again, still silent. He got to his feet somehow and managed to open the actual door to the rest of the apartment. Dick was still staring out the window, expression tight and fearful. Tim hesitated at the door for a moment, before reminding himself to hurry. He shut the door then tiptoed down the hall.

Roman was snoring on the couch, his face lit by the reality game show that was currently on. The volume was up so loud, Tim wondered how Roman hadn’t lost his hearing yet. Tim ignored him and hurried around the couch and into the kitchen. He opened the pantry doors and began to stuff any food he could find into his messenger bag.

He must have been making more noise than he thought because Roman stirred from his sleep with a moan. Tim froze, his hands shaking again. He closed his eyes and started to plead in his head, ‘Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep’ over and over and over and over again in his head. Who knew if they’d be able to leave if Roman decided to wake up. Tim wasn’t sure how long he crouched there in the kitchen, but he didn’t feel like moving until Roman’s snoring started up again.

Tim let out a relieved sigh, finished stuffing his bag, then carefully maneuvered himself to the front door. And then he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Tim swallowed down the fear in his throat. Dick was probably just having trouble with the floorboard. Or maybe he was debating on if he should grab medical supplies or something.

After the third infomercial, Tim finally lost all patience. He slipped his bag off his shoulder (food was noisy) and left it by the door. Then he snuck back to his room as quietly and quickly as he could.

The light was shining through the crack under the door. Tim pressed an ear against the door but heard nothing. “Dick?”

No answer.

Tim cracked the door open a little more and poked his head inside.

Only then he realized it hadn’t been him who had woken up Roman earlier. 

Tim sagged against the door. His knees gave out and he hit the floor with hardly a care. He pressed a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming out because this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

The window had been forced open. Shattered glass was scattered across the floor and the cool night air filled the room. The mattresses had been pulled off the beds and sliced open, their stuffing all over the room. Their pillows had also been cut open, adding feathers to the mix. 

Dick’s backpack was lying on the ground in the middle of the floor. The front pocket had been torn clean off, which allowed Tim to see the clothing and money Dick had been shoving inside.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. To the left and right of Dick’s bag were Jason and Damian’s bags in similar condition. Jason’s was lying on its side, allowing Tim to see the several cuts in the back leaving long slits. Damian’s drawstring was now torn open on the seams, the string also having been ripped out of its sleeve on both sides.

As if the entire situation couldn’t get any worse someone rang the doorbell.

Roman started awake at the sound and mumbled complaints about late-night solicitors or something but Tim knew that wasn’t a solicitor because there were bright green and purple spray-painted smiley faces and ‘HAHAHA’s all over the floor and walls and his family brothers friends were gone and he needed to go he needed to run, he needed help--

Tim managed to get in his room before the doorbell rang again and Roman yelled something about “he’s coming, he’s coming--” . He tried not to think about how his messenger bag was back there along with his laptop and food and forced himself to ignore the very threatening message that had been hand-painted around the room starting by the window and wrapping all the way around.

Tim forced the window open and climbed out onto the escape just as someone screamed. Tim barely touched the ladder as he slid down the escape and made the split-second decision that running deeper into the alley would be better and tried to block out the now very muffled laughter that Tim had no doubt was going to catch him if he didn’t run.

“This is what happens when you drag your friends into this crazy little game of ours.”

Chapter Text

Alfred Pennyworth was dusting the office when the landline started to ring. He frowned at it, a bit puzzled. No one had called that line for years now. The only reason it was even connected and paid for still was for… sentimental reasons. And look at the time- almost two in the morning! Who would be calling at such an hour?

But ever the dutiful butler, Alfred put his feather duster down and picked up the phone. “Wayne residence.”

No one said anything, but Alfred could hear heavy breathing on the other end. His frown deepened. “Hello?”

A soft young voice answered, his voice shaking. “I… I need to speak to Mr. Wayne.”

Alfred frowned. A child? “I’m sorry, Master Wayne is asleep. Perhaps if you call in the morning-”

“Please, sir. I need to speak to him.” The child implored.

Alfred frowned. The child sounded rather frightened. But that was not a billionaire's responsibility (even if said billionaire did not dress up as a bat and fight crime).

“Perhaps I can be of assistance,” Alfred said gently. “What seems to be the matter?”

The line was silent again.

“Young sir?”

“I…” there was a deep inhale of breath and the child’s word became rushed, “I-need-to-speak-to-Batman.”

Alfred almost dropped the phone right there. He managed to grasp hold of it again and tried to keep his voice steady, “I am sorry, but Batman does not live in Wayne Manor.” He was about to say goodnight and hang up the phone, but the child spoke again, a little more confident.

“You’re Agent A? Right?”

Alfred dropped the phone that time. There were only two people in Gotham city who even knew that “Agent A” was a person, let alone someone who worked for Batman. Those two people were Lucius Fox and Commissioner Gordan. So how did a child know? He quickly scrambled for it and then pressed it close to his ear. “Who is this?” he demanded.

Another pause. Then a voice, barely above a whisper, “It’s… it’s Crow.”

The butler wasn’t sure if he could take a shock like that. He sunk into the nearby couch and allowed this new information time to process. The young Timothy not only seemed to know that Master Bruce was Batman but Alfred’s code name that was used only by Batman himself. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, but it seemed that Tim had finally found his voice.

“I didn’t know who else to call! I was going to go to the police, but then I saw the van following me and I knew I probably wouldn’t make it that far so I ducked through a few buildings until I found an old phone booth and looked up Wayne in the directory and found this number and-”

“Calm down, young sir.” Alfred got to his feet, picked up the phone, and headed toward the library. Or at least he would have if the cord on the phone hadn’t run out. Very well, talk now. Inform Master Bruce later. “What happened?”

“Robin ran off again and Jay Bird and Nightwing went to look for him. But then Jay never checked in and someone came into our room and took Wing when I was getting food from the kitchen and then they did something to Roman--” Crow’s voice died for a second, “They’re after me now.”

“Where are you? Who’s after you?”

“The payphone on the corner of Main and Market.” Alfred could hear movement through the phone as Tim turned and looked at his surroundings. Alfred heard a quick intake of breath. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Timothy who is--?”

The line went dead.

Alfred did not even bother to properly put the phone back. He just dropped it on the ground and ran as fast as he could to the old clock. The secret door took much too long to open and Alfred questioned why there had to be so many steps to the cave. Alfred was not even sitting when sat activated the comlink. “Master Bruce, we have a problem.”

Before Batman even landed on the fire escape outside the Bird’s room, he knew he needed to move fast. Alfred’s call had disturbed him deeply for several reasons. 

Starting with the little fact that a ten-year-old child knew Bruce Wayne was Batman. Heck, he knew about Agent A. How long had Crow known? Bruce had known the kid was smart, but nothing Tim had ever done had hinted he had known such a big secret. At least, nothing he could think of.

But that issue was shoved aside very quickly. Tim took a very big risk by revealing he knew- which meant whatever was going on, it was a real danger, not just a minor scare.

Batman had already checked the payphone on the provided street corner and the surrounding area, but Tim was long gone by the time he had arrived. Bruce prayed Tim was just hiding and had Alfred connect the coms up to the manor phone line just in case he called again. (He chose to ignore the Batman side of his brain that was telling him the probability of that was very low).

Several scenarios of what could be happening flashed through Batman’s mind. Perhaps some human traffickers had found out about their situation and seen a very quick and easy catch. Or perhaps Jason had stolen from the wrong person and was being taught a lesson. Maybe the foster parent, Roman, had gotten into some nasty business and the boys were just collateral damage. Crow’s call hadn’t given enough to come to a solid conclusion.

But he had mentioned the apartment.

When Bruce climbed through the broken window, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting.

It had not been slashed personal belongings and all too familiar green and purple paint.

Bruce stepped back, pressing his back against the window frame, and tried to remember how to breathe. It felt like the weight of the world was now pressing against his lungs and it took a moment to find his voice. He tried to ignore that it was raspier than the usual bat grovel. “Alfred… Joker has the boys.”

Silence held for a moment. “Oh, heaven help us.”

Bruce was unable to speak again. He wanted this to be a bad dream. This was some kind of fear-induced, Scarecrow toxin, nightmare. His heart was certainly pounding fast and loud enough for it.

There was a noise from outside the room.

Batman latched onto that noise like a lifeline and marched out and down the hall. He stopped just outside the hallway and stared into the messy living area. Dishes were piled up, food wrappers were scattered about and empty cans and bottles spilled out of the trashcan. Alfred would be disgusted.

On the ground near the front door, lay Roman James.

Although he had no love for the man, Bruce felt just a bit of sympathy. He had been beaten up quite badly and Batman was pretty sure one arm was at least broken. But he was breathing and nothing appeared to be catastrophic. Not Joker’s target.

In other words: he’d live.

“Agent A, call an ambulance for Mr. James,” Batman spoke softly as he retreated back to the bedroom. He had more important matters to attend to.

Bruce paused outside the door. Inhale… exhale… Open.

Even prepared for it, Bruce still had trouble staying focused. He wanted to hit the streets and hunt down every known affiliate of the Joker. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to act. But the facts wrestled his swirling emotions into submission. This was a crime scene and he needed to investigate it. Thoroughly.

Batman knelt over the destroyed bags and began his examination, starting with Damian’s.

The bag’s string had been pulled out and was tied around the top like a little bow. When he untied it, he found a can of bird feed with a white piece of paper taped to it. It read, “ The early bird gets to be worms!” and a crude drawing of a bird was in the bottom left-hand corner with a number two next to it. Batman didn’t even want to think about what that implied. The rest of the bag was empty except for the small stuffed bird that Bruce recognized as the one Jason had won at the fair a couple of months back.

A desperate thought popped into Bruce’s mind. He had given Damian a communicator when the boys had been sick. All communicators had a tracker. Maybe--

Batman pulled up the tracker on his glove. It took a moment to find the right signal. The hope that had been climbing was crushed just as quickly as it had formed. The communicator was somewhere in the destroyed room. He made a half-hearted look around to locate it. His eyes fell on a very familiar object. Trembling hands picked up a piece of the now shattered Batarang. Damian’s birthday present.

That thought made Bruce take a moment to breathe. He carefully collected the pieces and shoved them into his belt.

Jason’s bag looked as though it had been tossed in a paper shredder, loose scraps of fabric hanging off the frame. Through the cuts, Batman pulled out a few lockpicks, a tire iron (which he identified as Jason’s), and a tiny birdcage with a piece of paper folded inside. He unfolded the message and read the scribbled writing, “Birds without feathers are caged forever.” Another drawing of a bird was in the bottom corner, but with the number three instead.

Bruce fingered the tire iron for a moment before setting it aside. Now was not the time to reflect on memories.

Finally, Dick’s bag. Batman dumped the contents on the floor. Clothing and spare bills fell out along with a large single black feather, the now-familiar white slip of paper, and a brochure of popular tourist locations in Gotham City. The brochure did not appear to have been changed or written on in any way, but Batman pocketed it all the same. The paper read, “What do you call a bird that can’t fly? Wingless!” The bird drawing and the number one were scribbled in the bottom corner.

Bruce picked up the discarded ‘Haley’s Circus’ t-shirt from the floor and resisted the urge to scream.

Tim’s bag wasn’t present anywhere in the room or in the apartment which gave Bruce some hope that at least one of the boys had gotten away.

They were four boys. Boys. Children! How had they caught the attention of Gotham’s lowest of the low? And why would Joker even care?

Alfred’s gentle voice cut into his brooding, “Sir, the Bat-signal has just been activated.”

“I’m on my way,” Batman dropped the shirt at his feet and turned his back. He prayed the Commissioner had good news for him.

Gordon looked up at the sky, then back at his watch. The light had been active for only ten minutes, but this case had him especially anxious. Whenever Joker was involved, he was anxious.

He looked back up and found Batman standing only a few feet away. He managed not to jump back in surprise- but only barely. He hated it when Batman did that.

“Commissioner,” Batman nodded politely, “What’s the situation?”

Gordon shook his head. “Nothing good. This turned up on our doorstep about an hour ago.” He pointed at the cardboard box at his feet, wrapped in purple paper and a large green bow on top. The card read, “To Bats, Love J.”

“We thought it was joker gas,” Commissioner Gordon stepped back as Batman knelt down to examine the gift. “The bomb squad approached in full gear and when we opened it…” his voice trailed off.

Batman began to remove the lid but froze in place when he saw the contents.

Gordon noticed. “You know what it means, Batman?”

Unable to speak, the vigilante nodded slowly, dropping the lid on the ground. He pulled out Tim’s messenger bag, the strap slashed and the seams ripped apart. His laptop was snapped in two separate pieces, lying separately on the bottom. A green card laid on top of the pieces and Batman quickly scanned the message. The main portion was a party invitation with a date scribbled down (October 31st, which was the present day) and a time (11:59 pm). It was the ‘What’ that caused concern. “Let’s see how far I can countdown before you shout surprise! The party starts with a BANG!” ‘Where’ was left blank and underneath was a scribbled message.

“Don’t you just hate it when someone spoils the surprise party?!”

The Commissioner spoke up, “Can’t make heads or tails of it. Any ideas?”

“Joker is sending me a message.” Batman fingered the now-familiar bird scribble and the number four in the bottom corner of the card.

“There’s more on the back,” Gordon said. “Joker doesn’t usually speak in riddles.”

Batman flipped the card over. “What does a crow do when it loses its voice? It croaks!”  

“It’s not riddles- it’s a joke. A sick joke about killing Tim.”

Commissioner Gordon frowned, “Who?”

Batman pocketed the note before turning to face Gordon, his face as passive as ever. “Joker has kidnapped four boys and is holding them with the intent to kill them. This bag and laptop belong to one Timothy Drake, age ten. The other three are Richard Grayson, age twelve, Jason Todd, age twelve, and Damian, who is about eight.”

Gordon’s face went a few shades paler. “Oh my… Batman, why-?”

“I don’t know, Commissioner.” Batman stood up on the edge of the building and drew his grapple gun. “But that’s not my concern at the moment. Our focus needs to be on locating them as quickly as possible.” 

Gordon ran his fingers through his hair and took a shaky breath, “Right. Where do we start?”

Batman glanced over his shoulder at the Commissioner. “It is four twenty-two am. We have precisely nineteen hours and thirty-seven minutes before the Joker kills Tim- according to the card.” He paused, “Their guardian is on his way to the hospital. When he is conscious, he may have information… if we’re lucky.”

The commissioner pinched his nose but nodded. “Sounds as solid a lead as any. I’ll get my best men searching. Can I get a description of the boys?”

“Timothy Drake, black hair, blue eyes, about four foot three. He is most likely wearing jeans and a black jacket with a hood. Dick Grayson, black hair, blue eyes, closer to four foot seven. Most likely wearing a navy blue hoodie. Jason Todd, black hair, green eyes, four foot six, red hoodie. Damian, black hair, green eyes, four foot, gray hoodie.”

The Commissioner raised an eyebrow but scribbled the information down on a notepad. He’d ask later. Lives were at risk. Now was not the time to question each other. “I’ll call if we get a lead.”

Batman nodded then jumped off the roof without another word.

Gordon sighed. Just once he’d like to have a Halloween that didn’t involve encouraging the public to postpone. The city should really just pick another day or do it during the day. 

He should talk to the mayor at some point about it.

When Dick opened his eyes, he knew he was in trouble. For one, he couldn’t see. After the initial panic had died, he registered the cloth digging into the sides of his face and deduced he was blindfolded. He couldn’t move much as a rope tied at his wrists and ankles made it impossible to separate his hands or legs. He pulled against the tight restraints and stretched his fingers out, brushing up against something warm.

Which was how he found out that he wasn’t alone.

“Hello?” a soft voice whispered and Dick almost laughed out loud in relief.

“Damian. It’s me, baby bird.”

For once, the boy didn’t protest against the name. Instead, Damian grasped Dick’s hands tightly and scooted backward so the two were leaning against one another, back to back.

“Are you alright?” Dick asked gently. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“N- No… Just disoriented.”

“Is Jay Bird here?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how long I’ve even been here.” Damian sounded so lost. 

Dick gently squeezed his hands. “What happened? Where’d you run off to?”

Damian didn’t answer immediately, his grip tightening, “I… I was only going to be gone for an hour, I promise. I was not running away. I just wanted to see some friends. I was actually heading back when…” his voice died off. “They jumped me, Wing. These two guys in clown suits just jumped out of the shadows and before I could even scream they had a bag over my head and my limbs pinned, I’m so sorry, Wing. I’m so, so, so, sorry!”

Dick suspected a few tears were running down Damian’s cheeks but knew it would be best not to bring it up. Instead, he tightened his grip on his littlest brother. “It’s alright, none of this is your fault.”

Someone groaned to Dick’s right and he stiffened. Damian pressed himself closer to his older brother, whispering softly, “What was that?”

Dick hushed him as another groan emanated. The sound of metal clinking together was soft, but present and the voice mumbled out a curse.

“Jay Bird?” Damian called out.

Another moan and Dick felt his body relax again. “Jay, wake up.”

“Mm…” Jason was either very tired or in a lot of pain. Dick guessed it was the latter.

“Jay! Come on!”

“Ugh… what happened?” More scuffling noises and clicking metal. “Why am I chained up?”

Damian clicked his tongue before forcing out a grumble. “Why does Jay get chains and we get ropes? I, for one, am insulted.”

Dick ignored him for a moment, “Can you see where we are? Damian and I are blindfolded.”

“Ow…” Jason moaned. “Hang on, my eyes need to adjust.”

Dick could picture Jason sitting up and blinking around wearily. “Uh… looks like some kind of office in an abandoned warehouse or storage facility of some sort. My arms are chained around some metal bar. I think the sun is out…”

Dick sighed. “Do you see Crow?”

“Uh… no, Crow isn’t here.”

A loud bang echoed through the building and all three of the Birds tensed up as the sounds of laughter filtered into their ears followed by a very familiar voice.

“What do you want? We didn’t do anything!”

Dick’s heart dropped. Jason cursed again, “Found him.”

Dick felt like cursing himself. “Play dead.” He squeezed Damian’s hands one last time before pulling out of his grasp and lying back on his side.

“Easy enough…” Jason grumbled and Dick heard metal clink again, indicating Jason was most likely lying back down as well.

The laughter died, but the shock in the voice was real, “Didn’t do anything? Well, aren’t you missing the punchline, Crow?” Dick tensed up. The Joker. He heard Jason curse again and resisted the urge to reach out and check on Damian beside him.

A woman’s voice now spoke up, “Are we gonna kill him now, Mista J?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, Harley. Where’s the fun in that?”

Dick heard some scuffling noises and Joker giggled, “Now, now, Crow. Behave yourself! After all, I have a surprise for you!”

More scuffling noises. Tim was resisting, which Dick honestly couldn’t blame him for.

“If you keep this up, Crow, I might have to move up the time of your show! Be grateful I haven’t done so already.” Joker’s light-hearted tone turned dark, “After all, you already spoiled the surprise.”

Dick heard a door open somewhere in front of him and Tim gasp. Footsteps pounded over and soft hands started to check for a pulse and breathing. Dick managed not to flinch, but only barely and focused on keeping his breathing slow and deep.

“Relax, little Crow, they aren’t dead. Well, not yet anyway.”

“I told you, we don’t work with Batman!”

Joker laughed, “Then explain this picture?” A flutter of paper. “Or this report?” A resounding thump. “Or this video?” The click of a button and a few seconds of silence. “Face the truth, kiddo.”

“Those were chance meetings!” Tim protested.

Dick jumped slightly at the sudden smack and Tim’s cry of pain. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to prevent the growl in his throat from surfacing.

“It’s not nice to talk back to your elders, kiddo.” Joker’s voice accompanied the footsteps that started walking around.

Tim spoke again, but softer, “Look, Mr. Joker-”

“ Mister Joker! Hear that Harley? You must be rubbing off on the kid!”

“-I don’t know why you want to kill us for talking to Batman a few times-”

“It was more than a few times, kiddo”

“But maybe we could… come to a different solution?”

Dick winced at the high-pitched shriek of laughter, which was followed by the Joker’s familiar cackle. “Oh, that was a good one, kid. You got me shedding tears of joy!”

Tim’s hands were suddenly yanked back and the Joker’s voice got a lot closer, “But in all seriousness, I can’t! The party decorations have already been ordered and the invites sent out. But don’t worry, Crow. I have special plans for you to go out in a big bang!” Joker’s chuckle turned into a full laugh as he turned away.

A few seconds later the door slammed shut and the laughter became even more muffled. The noises remained muffled, but never completely faded. No one moved for what felt like forever.  

Tim finally spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you’re all awake.”

Dick smiled and sat back up, turning in the direction of Tim’s voice. “What gave it away?”

Tim didn’t answer. His hands gently pried the cloth off of Dick’s face. 

Dick blinked a few times adjusting to the dimly lit bulb hanging in the center of the room and the window which was so caked in dirt, it might as well not be there. As he took in the scene of bricks and dust, Tim moved to help Damian with his blindfold.

Jason was sitting on the ground about five feet away. His hands were shackled together, and the chain looped around a metal pole that was connected to the floor and ceiling. It took another few seconds for the dried blood and bruises on Jason’s hands and face to click inside Dick’s head.

“Jay Bird, what happened to you?” Damian demanded as Tim began to work on the knots in his ropes.

Jason sighed. “If you must know, I got jumped.”

“Jay, we all got jumped,” Dick pointed out. “I have a few bruises from where Joker punched, but you…”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Well, I have experience with getting jumped. And as such, I had a knife.” He left it at that, but Dick could fill in the blanks.

“That’s not all your blood, is it?”

Jason didn’t answer.

Damian piped up, “Did you kill him?”

“...No. Miss Hammer Time showed up and then I woke up here.”

As if reacting to that comment, Harley Quinn’s laughter came from outside, a mad fit of giggles and shrieks. Everyone stared at the door, waiting several minutes before getting the courage to move again.

The blood came rushing back into Dick’s hands as the ropes went slack. He rubbed his wrists and got to his feet, shakily. Tim tried to help Damian up, but the kid pushed his hand away. The three of them joined Jason in the corner.

“We have to get out of here,” Dick said.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Nightwing.”

“Shut up, Robin.”

Tim examined the cuffs on Jason’s wrists. “We need a key or some sort of lock pick.” 

All three of them looked at Jason who glared pointedly back. “If I had a lockpick, don’t you think I would have used it by now? Joker took my bag.”

Tim visibly paled. “Right. Uh…”

“What if we pry the links apart?” Dick volunteered.

Tim shook his head, “They’re welded together. And we can’t just pull the pole out of the ground and walk away.”

Damian glared at him, “Then what do you suggest since you’re so smart, Crow?”

Tim looked away and didn’t say a word. Jason spoke for him, his voice monotone, “Nothing.”

No one moved. Jason took a deep breath before he spoke again. “I’m… I’m not going anywhere.” A beat, “You all need to go.”

Damian and Tim protested at the same time as Dick stood speechless.

“We are not going to just leave you, Todd!”

“Jay Bird, come on, we’ll find something!”

“It is cowardice and cruel!”

“I’m sure there is something we can use in this office. MacGyver it up, you know?”

“How dare you even make a suggestion like that.”

Jason closed his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his head against a wall. He settled for yelling instead. “Both of you, SHUT UP!”

The door to their prison rattled as someone slammed a fist into it. All of the boys scrambled away from the noise as someone (probably a goon) yelled at them all to be quiet. The door rattled again when the guy kicked it a few more times. His footsteps faded, leaving the boys to catch their breaths and slow their heart rates.

It took a few minutes but Jason made eye contact with Dick. Dick did not like the resigned look on Jason’s face. He spoke quietly, but his tone was firm. “When Joker comes back he is going to kill us. All of us. You need to take any chance you see to get clear. Once you are all safe, you can come back for me.” Jason swallowed back a lump in his throat. “Okay?”

Dick blinked once and tried to remember how to breathe. If they did get out, Dick knew they wouldn’t be back in time to save Jason. And Jason knew it too. Dick could tell by the shaking breaths and the underlying fear in Jason’s eyes. He wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Damian knelt down in front of Jason, his face starting to flush red with anger, “That is not true and you know it. Do not lie, Jay Bird. Do not even think about it.”

Jason smiled. It wasn’t a happy one. “I taught you good, kid. Too good.” He laughed bitterly, “But don’t you worry, you won’t even miss me. I’m just the solo street rat, not even a good excuse for a brother.”

Something inside Dick shattered. “Jay Bird-”

“Maybe if I distract them, I can buy you all time to run. Or--”

“Jason!” Dick growled, “You are not just a street rat. You’re our brother. You’re our strength. Do you really think we could have survived without you? No!” He shook his head, eyes shining with determination. “We’re not leaving anyone behind.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. Dick reached over and squeezed Jason’s hand. “I promise, we will find a way out of this… without losing anyone.”

Damian nodded, “We are the three musketeers, got that?”

“There’s four of us,” Jason pointed out. He paused before chuckling softly. “Although, in the story, there are the three musketeers and then a fourth man who wants to be a musketeer… or just gets pulled along for the ride. I don’t remember at the moment.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “Alright, we are the three musketeers and the random fourth guy who is dragged along with us.”

“Who’s the fourth guy?” Tim asked.

Jason smirked, “You.”

Dick gently punched Jason, “No one is the fourth guy. We’re all for one and one for all.”

Tim shrugged, “There’s not much we could do anyway, even if we wanted to leave you. Steel door that's sealed and locked, no way to break through that window without drawing attention, guards at every door…” he trailed off. “We’re stuck here.”

Silence fell. Dick wanted to tell Tim he wasn’t helping but he couldn’t find the energy. Or the will. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and hope this was some kind of twisted nightmare. Pretend that they hadn’t just been kidnapped by the freaking clown prince of Gotham. Pretend they were back in the cold apartment with Uncrustables for dinner and dry cereal for breakfast. Pretend that someone would actually be looking for them.

Damian snapped Dick out of his thoughts. The boy moved to sit down on the ground next to Jason. Jason was unable to put his arm around the kid, the cuffs keeping them behind his back. Instead, Damian put an arm around the back of the pole. Jason managed to grab the kid’s wrist and hold it while Damian leaned his head against Jason’s shoulder.

Dick smiled despite the circumstances. Dick plopped down on the other side of Damian. He wrapped his arms around Damian and grabbed onto Jason’s hoodie with his hands. Damian shifted his weight slightly so he was sitting up a bit more, but was still using Jason as a pillow. 

Tim stared down at the three of them, eyes wide. Dick had no idea what was going through Tim’s head right now but whatever it was it kept Tim rooted in place.

Jason appeared to lose all patience. He huffed loudly, snapping Tim back to reality. Wordlessly, he tapped at the floor on his free side. He was unable to actually pat it, but Dick could hear metal clink on metal as he pulled against his restraints.

Tim moved slowly, settling down on the other side of Jason. He sat up like a stiff log. Jason huffed again, jerking his head to the side, then gave Tim a very pointed look.

Tim carefully lowered his head onto Jason’s other shoulder. He gasped in surprise as Damian’s free hand lunged out and latched onto Tim’s wrist. Damian pulled on it until Tim was leaning enough across Jason that Dick was able to grab hold of his hand as well. Damian pulled free of Jason’s grip long enough to grab Tim’s other hand and then returned to Jason’s grasp.

Tim looked very surprised and a tad uncomfortable in his position, but he made no move to pull free. Dick took that as a good thing.

The laughter outside started up again. Dick stared at the door, the dread curling up in his chest. He did not want to be here. Who knew what Joker had planned for them? Who knew if they were going to get out of here? Did anyone even notice they were gone? Or were they just going to be cemented as the forgotten Gothamites they were? It wasn’t like they were ever going to be anything different. His breath caught in his throat and Dick found it hard to not panic he couldn't panic when his little brothers were right there--

--someone was humming.

It took a moment for Dick to recognize the tune. It was the song his mother used to sing to him after a nightmare. The same song Dick had hummed out-of-tune and off-beat to Tim just hours earlier. The same tune he'd hum to everyone during a particularly bad night. But this rendition was on-tune and on-beat and it filled Dick with a long-forgotten peace and love--

A small part of his mind registered “Damian” but at the moment he didn’t care. All he knew was at this moment, in this spot, with these people he felt safe. His brothers were safe. As long as they were there, everything would be okay. Their lives had never been safe. This was no different.

Who knew what tomorrow was bringing? But they were prepared to face it. Together.

Casefile: The Birds

Subjects:
Dick Grayson AKA “ Nightwing”
Jason Todd AKA “ Jay Bird"
Timothy Drake AKA “ Crow”
Damian AKA “ Robin"

Status: TOP PRIORITY

Opened: June 19th 20XX

Closed: N/A

Reports:
June 19th- The Wharf
June 27th- (Robin) Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway
July 13th- Two-Face Bank Robbery
July 30th- Vreeland Charity Ball
August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin) Gotham Public Zoo
August 21st- Riddler, Gotham Park
August 30th- (Civilian Interaction) Gotham Street Fair
September 5th- (Jay Bird) Batmobile Vandalism
September 12th- Freeze Caper
September 17th- (Crow) Gotham Rooftop
September 26th- (Nightwing) Gotham Rooftop, 41st and Main
October 10th- Catwoman Robbery
October 31st-
→open report←
06:24 am- Joker is holding all four of the Birds at an unknown location. No one knows why. Not even me.
08: 02 am- Attempted to call in Superman for the favor he owes me. L.L. informed me he is off-planet and will not be back for at least two days. Even if I asked for him to come back now, he would not be here for over 24 hours.
Spoke to Jon. K and Jor. K. about their own abduction a year ago for insight into how The Birds may be feeling now. (Joker would not experiment on the boys, would he?)
10:23 am- False sighting of Joker at Gotham Bridge. No new leads.
01:46 pm- It has been 12 hours since Crow called. No new leads.
05:17 pm- I haven’t slept in over thirty-six hours. It’s the first time since Batman first hit the streets that Agent A hasn’t ordered me home for sleep. Not that I ever listen.
10:02 pm- Nothing has changed. Joker is going to do whatever he is planning in two hours. …I don’t know what to do.
→end report←  

<Extend for more info>

Chapter Text

Tim was quite comfortable when the door slammed open. He had fallen asleep, leaning against Jason (which would have never had happened if they weren’t about to die, but Tim tried not to think about that. He did a poor job at it).

The loud ‘BANG’ snapped him awake from the already fitful sleep. Tim’s eyes flew open as Jason shot up like a missile. Another, softer but still ringing ‘bang’ from Jason’s head smacking into the metal pipe he had been cuffed to caught Tim’s attention. His gaze flicked from the door to Jason, which proved to be a very big mistake.

Tim had no time to react as surprisingly strong hands grabbed his arm and yanked him up to his feet. He hadn’t even gotten his footing before he was shoved directly into Joker’s waiting grip.

Dick moved to help two seconds too late and was forced back to the ground when two of the goons pulled out their guns.

“Now the party can begin,” The Joker cackled with his sadistic grin, pushing Tim into Harley’s waiting arms. Tim kicked and struggled, but found no luck. His thoughts were much too scrambled and confused from being jolted awake to make a coherent thought, much less a plan. The terror increased as Joker snapped his fingers. One of the goons handed him a large, bulky, round device. It took a moment for Tim to recognize it as some kind of collar.

That realization did not help his panic levels.

Joker dangled the large plastic collar in front of Tim’s face, swinging it back and forth. “All parties need some presents, right? So here’s your present kid. The kind that every parent wants!” Joker unlocked it, slowly moving towards the struggling boy and his cackling girlfriend.

Dick went to lunge but was intercepted by the Joker goon with the gun. They grabbed him and pressed the gun to his head. Jason growled and yanked on his cuffs, but to no avail. Damian remained still, but he was clearly angry about the situation, as he was shooting death glares at everyone in the room.

Through the panic and sheer terror coursing through his mind, Tim’s curiosity managed to latch onto a very rushed and very important question. “What is it?” he demanded, the panic in his voice rising.

Joker switched the collar from his left hand to his right, then back to his left, “Lady and gentle birds, I present the invention of the century. The Voice Boomer! That’s right, folks! Step up and buy your one-of-a-kind collar that is guaranteed to shut your kid up from spilling all of your secrets!” He turned around and faced his other three prisoners, “Do you want to know how it works?”

Damian managed to sound more annoyed than frightened. “Not really.”

Joker ignored him, “Allow me to demonstrate!” He turned back to Harley and Tim, who was now hanging limply in Harley’s grip having exhausted most of his energy trying to escape. Joker swooped up and snapped the collar around Tim’s neck then pulled out a transmitter. “When I press this button, the timer will start! Little Crow here will have a few hours before this entire warehouse is blown sky high!”

Tim visibly paled and opened his mouth to protest-

“Or,” Joker interrupted, “Crow can choose when he wants to blow up by simply saying the word! A single noise out of his mouth will activate the same fire display!” Joker cackled, “That’s how you keep a secret, eh Harley?”

“Yes, Mista J!” Harley burst into giggles. Joker joined her very quickly and Tim was forgotten for a moment and he was dropped to the floor. 

He managed to crawl away a foot or so before the fear made him freeze in place. Tim began shaking, too scared to swallow his own saliva, which didn’t matter anyway as his mouth had gone dry from the fear. He already forced himself to be quiet but now-- He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to cry.

Dick somehow broke free of his captor's hold and dropped down next to his younger brother, pulling him into a hug. Tim clung to the older boy, eyes squeezed shut and silent tears streaking down his face. He wanted to say something. Anything. He’d take screaming at this point.

Joker cackled, “Aw… family bonding. It makes me sick.” He snapped his fingers at Quinn. “Harley, you know what to do.”

“Of course, suga!” Harley giggled as she grabbed Tim again and dragged him back away from Dick’s embrace. A different goon grabbed Damian while Joker grabbed Dick, dragging them out the door as the two kicked and screamed. The biggest goon unlocked one of Jason’s wrists and began to drag him out of the room. Jason growled, punching and kicking before he managed to headbutt his captor and break free.

To Tim’s shock, Jason didn’t bolt to the door-- his only chance of freedom--but ran straight at him, managed to shove Harley off balance, and gripped Tim’s shoulder’s tight. His voice was a whisper, but the words left Tim’s ears ringing. “Stay strong, little brother.”

Then Harley and the big goon grabbed Jason and dragged him out in a similar fashion as Damian and Dick, leaving Tim kneeling on the floor in shock and terror.

Harley reappeared only a few seconds later, leaving Tim no time to recover enough to attempt to run. She pulled out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Tim’s arms around the same pipe Jason had been previously attached to.

Then she left, pausing in the doorway to give a cheerful wave goodbye. The door slammed shut, leaving Tim alone in his prison. The other bird’s struggles and screams began to fade as they became further away before suddenly cutting off as metal slammed together. A short time later, Tim heard an engine start and the Joker yell something before the car pulled away.

Leaving him alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

Tim had never understood, “silence is deafening” until he was sitting in an abandoned building somewhere with nothing but dead air. The office had no breeze blowing through it and wherever the warehouse was, it didn’t seem to be near a busy part of town- or near anywhere for that matter. All there was a hollow, chilling vibe that was not helping Tim’s nerves. In the past when Tim was alone, he usually talked to himself. Sometimes verbalizing his thoughts helped him process them. This time, Tim didn’t have that luxury.

He supposed Joker could be lying about the collar being voice-activated, but he did not want to find out the hard way. Tim’s mouth hung slightly open, allowing his saliva to escape his mouth. Who knew how sensitive this device was. Even his breaths were short and light making as little noise as possible. And no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t cry. A few silent tears had escaped but he had managed to get that under control after… after he was left alone.

Tim estimated it had been about an hour or so since he had been left and had settled into a steady routine when a new sound entered the picture. A very soft beeping. That seemed to come from his neck.

Tim breathed in sharply and squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the inferno of flames to leap up from somewhere and eat him alive. After a minute or so his body finally relaxed and Tim chanced opening his eyes. He looked at the dirty window and could roughly make out the outline of the glowing numbers that had suddenly appeared on his neck. It took another second for him to translate the mirrored image, which read, 4:38:50. They blinked every second, making a dull beeping noise that sent another spike of fear through the ten-year-old.

Joker had started his countdown.

Tim started to miss the silence.

The Commissioner was starting to panic. It had been over twelve hours since Joker had left his message and there was nothing on the boys- which meant one of two things.

One, the police were not looking hard and fast enough or-

Two, Joker didn’t want them to be found. Or he hadn’t left them to be found.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

So, when one of his men came up to him two hours before midnight holding a report about loud noises near the wharf, he lost his patience.

Taking the folder in his hands, he threw it onto his desk as he stood to his feet, towering over the young officer who was suddenly regretting the life choices that led him to this path. “Joker is going to kill a child in less than two hours and you are worried about noises disturbing the peace?”

Officer Blake bit his lip and clenched his fists before taking a deep breath and plowing ahead. “No, sir. I have gotten several reports earlier this evening that I ignored, but the most recent call makes me think it warrants our attention.”

Gordon narrowed his eyes and practically hissed, “What is it?”

“A homeless veteran was wandering around the area and believes it sounds like Morse code. It’s a distress signal, sir. SOS. And it has been going on for the past two hours in varying degrees of volume and speed.”

Gordon blinked twice, pinched his nose, looked up to the heavens, and let out a heavy sigh. “Very well, officer. Check into it. I’ll take any lead we can get at this point.”

“Yes, sir.” Blake scooped his folder off the Commissioner’s desk and hurried out of the room without hesitation. Gordon was a good man, but when he was angry, he didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

When Officer Blake arrived on the wharf the first thing that hit him was the smell. Sea salt and fish made him want to gag his dinner back up. The second thing that hit him was something much less pleasant than the smell.

“&%$! Blasted birds!” Blake yelled at no one in particular.

That was when he heard the first thud. It was distant, but it resonated through the air. Blake could understand why people phoned in complaints or concerns. The sound was hollow and dull, which was followed shortly by a similar sound as it repeated again, and then again. Then it paused, before coming again, this time with long spaces between the three clangs. Another short three, then it died again.

Blake put his hand on his gun. Definitely Morse code. He began to creep through the warehouses, checking in open doors and searching. Whenever the sounds started up again, he would try and pinpoint their exact location, dashing in that direction.

It took him almost thirty minutes to find the right one and then the door was locked. He cursed again, wondering if he should get a warrant. “Hello? Anyone in here?” He jiggled on the handle. 

The noise became a racket as someone threw Morse code out the window and just made noise.

Blake hesitated, then stepped back, aimed his gun at the lock, then fired. The shot resounded through the air and the metal sounds grew still. The officer pushed the now busted door open to find an empty warehouse facility, abandoned for who knew how long. “Hello?”

“Hello?”

“hello…”

“..ello…”

Nothing. Blake frowned, readied his gun, then began to search the empty space. A few old boxes, mostly rotted away, some old machinery that had become rusted and unusable, and long planks of wood and steel lying on the ground for no apparent reason. It was the barrels that threw Blake off. They seemed new-- like someone had just left them there. They were spread throughout the room in stacks of three tied together. It was only on closer inspection did Blake find the flashing detonator.

Gasoline, most likely. Enough to send the building sky-high. He quickly backed away from the bombs, heading back to the exit door. This definitely deserved a call into the Commissioner and a bomb squad.

THUNG.

Blake whirled around, pointing his gun up. No one was there.

THUNG.

His eyes found the door at the far end of the building.

THUNG.

Ever so quietly and slowly, Blake approached the door, glancing nervously at the ticking barrels. Maybe he should call it in first, then investigate.

THUNG. THUNG. THUNG.

Or maybe not. Blake grabbed the handle and tried it. Locked. He stepped back and looked around one more time before kicking the door in, holding his gun at the ready.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it sure as heck wasn’t this.

A boy, Blake guessed around ten years old, was lying on the floor, stomach down, arms stretched above his head. His wrists were cuffed to a metal pole, making it impossible to move around. The boy’s legs were stretched out as far as possible, just long enough to reach the outside wall of the building and kick it, which was where the metal ringing sound was coming from. The position looked extremely uncomfortable and some blood dripped from his wrists from where the metal had bit into his skin. Around his neck was a black collar that emitted little beeping noises.

Blake checked the rest of the room before holstering his gun and kneeling down next to the kid. “It’s alright, kid. You’re going to be alright. Let’s get you up.” He helped the boy get up from the floor and to his feet. The handcuffs were standard so it was no difficulty getting them off. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

The boy blinked at him, tears filling his eyes. He reached up with his hands to his neck and pointed at the collar, then shook his head.

Blake frowned. “What is it? What’s wro-?” His voice cut off as he found the timer which now read, 0:32:23. His voice got very soft. “Oh.”

The boy waved his right hand to get the officer’s attention, then moved his hand in different shapes. It took a moment for Blake to recognize the ASL alphabet and he asked the boy to repeat it, translating the letter aloud. “T… I… M… D…” Blake frowned for a moment before the message clicked. “Timothy Drake?”

Timothy's eyes widened in surprise. Confusion and then relief flashed across his face. He took a moment to compose himself before nodding slowly, his jaw clenched. He signed again. Blake spoke aloud again.

“B… O… O… M… I… F… I… S… P… E… A… K… Boom if I speak?” Blake looked at the collar then out the door at the barrels. He paled and pulled out his radio. “Commissioner Gordon, I found Timothy Drake, but we have a situation. I need the bomb squad pronto and someone might want to get a hold of Batman…”

When Batman arrived at the scene, he spoke to no one, even when the Commissioner tried to grab his attention and brief him. The poor policeman barely said the words, “Bomb squad will be here soon,” before Batman brushed past him into the now blocked-off warehouse. A small crowd had formed outside the barricade and an officer was holding them back.

Batman ignored the large barrels of gasoline and made a beeline straight to the office. Officer Blake was still inside, speaking calmly to Tim, who was looking slightly less afraid now that he wasn’t handcuffed to the pole.

When Bruce saw Tim, he froze in the doorway. A storm of emotions whirled around inside of him. Relief the boy was alright (at the moment), anger towards the Joker who had obviously hurt him based on the large bruise on Tim’s left cheek and the marks in his wrists, and fear. Fear of what was happening.

The clock on the collar read 0:12:32. Eyes fixed on the time, he fully entered the room.

As soon as Tim saw him, tears began to form in his eyes. He stood shakily to his feet and Batman rushed forward, dropping to his knees in front of the boy. To Batman’s surprise, Tim threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

Bruce returned the gesture, albeit much more gently and a little hesitant. He had never hugged one of the Birds before. It wasn’t… unpleasant. Just different.

Officer Blake spoke softly, but there was an underlying urgency. “Timothy has been signing as fast as he could the past few minutes. The collar around his neck is somehow able to tell if he makes any sounds. If he tries to speak, the bombs go up. It was a good thing the Joker didn’t know he knew some ASL.” It was a poor joke and everyone knew it, but Batman let it slide.

Blake continued carefully, “I tried to get him to leave, but he’s worried there might be some sort of motion sensor that could set off the bombs.”

Batman nodded. Smart boy. The Joker wasn’t usually that thorough, but better safe than sorry. Batman opened up one of his pouches on his tool belt and pulled out a screwdriver and a scanner.

The clock now read 0:11:13.

Batman turned to Officer Blake, “Help the Commissioner clear the area. By my estimates, this warehouse will turn into an inferno if we don’t stop the countdown.”

“The bomb squad should be here any second-”

“We don’t have time. I’ll have to do it.” Batman turned to Tim, “If Timothy says it’s okay.”

Tim didn’t even hesitate, signing ‘Yes’ and nodding to Officer Blake, who looked reluctant to leave but did as he was told.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Batman turned his full attention to examining the collar. “Crow, I need you to hold still.”

Tim complied easily, stretching his neck out as wide as he could to give Batman a better look.

The device was simple enough, but it was the actual measuring system that was concerning. Bruce muttered a curse under his breath, (and made a note to apologize to Alfred for it later). He stood up, went to the office door, and closed it. He went back to Tim, double-checked to see if there were any cameras before sliding his cowl off. “Alright. Tim, I need you to look at me.”

Tim did as he was asked, eyes wide. Yeah, he knew Bruce Wayne was Batman but there was something about seeing it that made it solidify in his mind. For a brief moment, Tim was proud of his accomplishment but he pulled himself back down to earth. Now was not the time to be impressed. Now was the time to listen.

“Tim, I am going to be honest with you.” Bruce swallowed hard, “The collar is easy enough to remove, but it is measuring your vital signs. Once your pulse is disconnected from the machine, the collar will let Joker know, and then he will know it was removed. And when Joker is angry, he reacts. We don’t want him to hurt any of your brothers so… this is going to be very tricky.”

The boy nodded, clearly frightened but trying to stay calm.

Bruce swallowed down again. “We need to wait until the last possible moment to remove the countdown from your neck. If I try to disable the countdown, Joker will just manually activate it. If we remove the collar, he will activate it. I don’t have time to snip all the wires on each of the barrels outside.” He took a deep breath, “I am going to cut the casing around the wires, then remove the collar ten seconds before the bomb goes off. Your pulse should register for a few seconds after we remove the collar and the Joker should be focused more on the countdown than your pulse- at least until after the explosion. After the collar is removed, we run .”

Bruce pointed at the dirty window. “I’m going to break that open before I remove the device and hand you out to Officer Blake, who will be waiting to run with us. We should be clear when the blast goes off. Do you understand?”

Tim nodded, his hands shaking, but his expression determined. He had to do this. For his brothers. 

Bruce gently squeezed the boy’s shoulders, then pulled the cowl back on just before Officer Blake returned.

“The blast area has been cleared. Commissioner Gordon wants to know why you aren’t disarming the bomb.”

Batman stood up without a word. He approached the old window, slamming his protected fist through the glass. Blake jumped back surprised.

“Woah!”

“Go around to the other side of this window. When I remove the collar, I am handing you the boy then you run as fast as you can to clear the blast zone.” Batman smashed another pane of glass, then another. 

Officer Blake thought it best to do as the vigilante said, especially since the timer now read 0:06:12.

After punching out the window, Batman gripped the metal frame, yanking it out and placing it gently to the ground. Then he turned to Tim and pulled out a small saw and laser cutter. Tim visibly stiffened, but his expression remained impassive as Batman returned to the collar and began to carefully cut away at the casing.

It was an extremely difficult and delicate matter. Batman could only cut the plastic casing, making sure all the wiring remained intact- and since it was designed by the Joker, the wiring was a little… crazy. As for the integrity of the casing, it was thick enough that it took some time to cut through- about three minutes. This, combined with the caution taken to make sure Tim was not injured added another minute and thirty seconds. Which meant the clock was now counting down the seconds, not minutes when Batman finished cutting the casing.

Blake was already outside, waiting to sprint.

Thirty seconds.

Batman carefully put his cutting tools away in his belt and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be fine. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. With his luck, this might blow up in his face. Literally. On the bright side, he wouldn’t have to live with the deaths of four children on his conscience.

Twenty-five.

Tim closed his eyes and tried not to throw up. His goal was to not die, but he really didn’t want to soil the Dark Knights cape. That was just bad manners and, if they survived, whoever had to clean it would have a rotten time doing it. He almost laughed. He could die in the next minute and he was worried about Batman’s launderer. 

Twenty seconds.

Blake watched the little number tick and tried not to think about the fiery inferno that he was about to run from. Just in case, he said a little prayer in his heart to whoever might be listening.

Fifteen seconds.

Batman grabbed the collar with both hands around where he had cut the casing. He hoped it was all the way through- there was no way to check without letting the Joker know something was up. Tim locked eyes with him, the amount of trust shining through and Bruce swallowed his fear down, nodding in return. They were going to be fine.

Ten seconds.

Batman ripped the collar open.

Chapter Text

Dick, Jason, and Damian were chained up in the back of a truck, watching a clock. You would think they would be bored. Then again, most ticking clocks were not lifelines of little brothers.

Jason stared at the ticking seconds and tried to think about something. Anything . But the only thing that he could focus on was the fact that he was watching the last seconds of Tim’s life. Little Timmy who was so shy and timid. Crow, the last bird to join the nest, but the first one who was going to leave it. Jason had been beaten up enough at this point to know this was not a dream. But how he wished it was.

Joker was cackling right beside them in the truck, counting down the seconds with Harley joining in for the final countdown. The heart monitor in the collar spiked up as the time got smaller and Jason felt his heart keep pace with it. He tore his eyes away from the monitor and forced himself to focus on the clock. Tick. Tok. Tick. Tok.

Ten seconds.

Joker and Harley’s countdown dissolved into cackling and dancing. Jason gave in the urge to finally scream and yell as many insults he could think of at the two psychos. Many of them Dick was probably not appreciative of but Jason refused to be silent as the clock ticked.

Tok. Tick. Tok.

He swore and threatened the mad man and woman with several atrocities most adults would have been alarmed at but Joker and Harley just ignored him.

Dick said nothing in protest but Dick’s grip on Jason’s arm grew tighter.

The timer hit zero and Jason swore he felt the ground shake. That incessant beeping was now just a flat line of static. Tim was… 

He was… 

Jason slammed his head against the back of the truck and screamed as loud as he could. Dick bent his head and began to sob. Damian stared ahead, eyes fixed on that cursed line of the as if wondering what happened to the heartbeat.

“You know, Crows are a symbol of death,” Joker grinned. “Looks like he picked the right name, don’t ‘cha think?”

Jason started screaming threats again but found he was barely processing the words himself. They were just… words. Angry words. Harmful words. But just words. The only real thing Jason was processing was the fact that Tim was… dead . 

He couldn’t be dead! Jason had just seen him only a few hours ago. His heartbeat had been right there and now it was just… gone.

Joker cackled, his whistling turning into a song. “Birds are falling from the sky,” he grabbed Dick’s head and forced the boy to look him in the eyes, “Wings are broken-” he poked Damian in the shoulder, but the boy didn’t even flinch, still in shock, “-throats are dry!” Whirling around to Jason, he covered the boy’s mouth with his hand and leaned in close. “If you get picked, you will die-!”

Harley laughed, jingling the keys to their cuffs. Joker grabbed Jason by his hood and threw him out the back door. Jason hit the pavement with a loud thump, and the Joker jumped out after him. Jason tried to get to his feet, but the mad man grabbed him, yanking him by the chains as he finished his song, “Don’t get picked tonight! HAHAHA!”

Only then did Jason realize what was going to happen. 

Dick moved to intervene, but Harley Quinn knocked his feet out from under him with her hammer. “Nuh-un, Little Wing! Mista’ J has big plans and you ain’t gonna ruin the party!”

Dick went to try again but found a gun pressed to his and Damian’s head only a few seconds later. Dick looked absolutely terrified as he watched the Joker pull Jason away from the truck. In desperation he screamed, “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” but no one even paid him any mind.

Jason found himself unable to care. Tim was… was… 

Joker’s voice carried quite loud and shrill, but it was enough to at least get Jason’s attention. “Now, Jay Bird, was it? I’ve heard you’re quite a good lock-picker. Is that right?”

Jason spat in his face. He would have punched him if he wasn’t worried about the gun currently being pointed at Dick’s head.

“Manners, my boy. Manners.” Joker said, shaking his finger back and forth in scolding. “Well, I’m giving you a chance to live!” The two halted about twenty feet away from the van in front of a large, covered box. Joker grinned, whipping the sheet off in flourish to reveal-

A safe.

Jason realized what was about to happen one second too late. He attempted to bolt but was easily yanked back. There was nothing he could as Joker shoved the struggling and screaming Jason inside the small space. Jason continued to struggle down to the last tiny crack of light, the door slamming on his hand. Jason screamed and yanked it back, letting his only chance of freedom go as he was plunged into darkness.

The door shut with a resounding, ‘bang!’ and Jason could hear a muffled Joker practically sing, “Ta-ta, little birdie!”

No way was Jason giving up that easy, injured hand or no. He pounded and kicked at the door, praying the door was rusty or maybe Joker hadn’t turned it off.

Joker’s stupid laugh cut through Jason’s fitful punches and kicks. Jason had to stretch to hear the freaking clown. “--n’t if I were you. The more you move, the more air you use and- oh, dear. That is all the air you have? Gee, Harley, we should get a refund on those cans of helium and buy little Jay here some oxygen!”

Jason went to curse the clown out only for his words to die at the muffled, but very clear scream.

Dick .

There were no words, just a sound of pure despair and desperation. Just as quickly as it happened, it was muffled and Joker growled something. The sound of the van starting back up made Jason growl. He slammed his hand, biting back a howl of pain. Stupid injured hand.

The sound of the truck grew distant as it was driven away leaving Jason alone in the dark.

In the back of Joker’s truck, Dick was shaking on the floor. He couldn’t think and could barely breathe.

Something leaned against his right shoulder. Dick looked down and found Damian, still sitting in shock, his expression as blank as a slate. The sight would have normally sent Dick into a panic but, now , he was just glad one face was still there.

He reached over and took Damian’s hand in his. For once, the baby bird didn’t pull away.

Jason’s hand wasn’t broken. It was definitely bruised and some bones may have cracked, but nothing had been shattered or broken into little pieces. At least, that's what Jason thought based on the pain and the fact he could still move all his fingers and make a fist. Which was kind of a weird thing to focus on but it was the only thing that was keeping him a little bit grounded.

Because sometimes, you learn things about yourself at the worst times. Like, when you ride the Ferris wheel and you look down and suddenly realize, you’re really high up. A little too high for comfort. Or when you’re a kid and your nightlight bulb goes out before you fall asleep and the room goes pitch black. The dark can be a scary thing.

Well, Jason wasn’t afraid of the dark. But apparently, he was claustrophobic.

It made sense when he thought about it. He’d lived on the open streets his whole life. Big open sky, the wide night air, that was his favorite feeling. But getting locked in a safe with only enough room to punch the wall about four inches away? Not being able to sit up straight and having to instead curl your back and tilt your neck in awkward positions? That was not fun.

The dark didn’t help much either, but Jason was used to it. Now if he could only remember how to breathe normally. It had taken until Joker was long gone for truely panic to rise up. At first, he had been angry.

Seriously? Who locks a guy up in a safe he can’t even try and get out because, oh right, Joker stole his lockpicks ? That was just unfair.

Then, after yelling and insulting and screaming and car wheels spinning there was just quiet. Only then, Jason suddenly realized how tight it was in the safe. His heart started to pound and he started having difficulty breathing- not from the lack of air (although, when he thought about it, that was going to be a problem very soon), but from the panic.

Hyperventilation would be very bad for his health, especially since he only had enough air to survive… well, he wasn’t sure how long. Then again, who was going to find him, crack the stupid safe, and pull him out before he ran out of air? Nobody knew where he was. And even if they did, no one would care. So maybe it would be okay to panic.

Jason sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. He was going to die in a safe. If it wasn’t so terrifying, he’d have laughed at the irony. The very thing he spent countless hours studying and trying to break into was going to be his undoing. He could already see the conversations he was going to have in heaven.

“I was shot and killed by a man who was trying to attack my wife. How’d you die?”

“I got locked in a safe.”

Jason almost laughed. Who was he kidding himself, he wasn’t going to heaven. He’d go to the other place- if it actually existed. He kind of hoped it did, because if it did that would mean Tim was alright. That kid was an angel already so it stood to reason he would become an actual one.

He tried to swallow the lump down in his throat. Oh gosh, Timmy. Little Timmy was dead . He could scarcely believe it. The stupid kid with the computer had been literally blown away. Jason hoped the death had been instant and painless, but with their luck, it was probably very painful. And he just got to close his eyes and fall asleep.

Tears threatened to spill. Jason shook his head and tried to force them down. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to-

Aw, forget it. It wasn’t like anyone would judge him for being weak. Or even care. He buried his face into his hands and let out the heavy sobs as the tears spilled freely.

How many times had he picked on Tim? Threatened him? Made him feel inferior? He didn’t want to think about it. He’d been jealous of the kid and Tim blew up . Never had Jason wanted to trade places with his little brother so badly, and for once it wasn’t a selfish desire. It was a want, a need, to keep his kid brother from getting hurt- or at least dying in a less painful way. Tim could fall asleep and never wake up- Jason would take the bomb.

Jason hiccupped, the sobs growing worse. He jerked around in his uncomfortable position, trying to curl up as if it would comfort him. Slamming his fists against the walls, he let out a scream before pulling his hands into his chest.

Something cold pressed against his skin and his sob died in his throat. Jason reached into his jacket and shirt and pulled out something long and thin. It took him a second to realize it was his silver whistle, the one he had won back at the fair. The one Bruce Wayne had given him. For some reason, Joker hadn’t taken it and Jason hadn’t noticed. Maybe Jason’s kicking and screaming had prevented his goons, who knew?

Jason fingered the whistle, rubbing it in between his fingers, mind racing. Focusing on the small tube helped ground his thoughts to something a bit more comprehensive and less… panicky. How can he get out of here?

Alright, so if he was locked in a safe he’d bang on the walls and apparently sob like a baby, as he had just found out.

What about the other birds? Damian would smooth talk his way into getting some tools or something like that before he was even locked in the safe. Or he’d use his army of cats to get away, but again: before the safe door closed. Jason was past that point so that was useless.

Dick would… actually, what would Golden boy do? He can’t pick locks, he can’t smooth talk, if anything he would probably use some acrobatics to get free of Joker and run for his life. But once he was in the safe? Panic. Definitely panic.

That left… Tim.

Jason had to take a steady breath before he continued his trail of thought. 

Tim would be… would have been locked in, there was no doubt about it. He would have figured out how much air was in the small space and would have done some calculations of how long he’d survive before feeling the door to see if he could get out. Then he’d somehow call for help if there was no way out.

Well, Jason already knew the door was smooth, the handle had been broken off and the hole plugged, (based on his pounding and screaming from earlier) and his screaming wasn’t going to help for long because he’d lose his voice long before anyone heard him. All he had was a shrill whistle.

Which might actually work, assuming people can hear him outside the safe.

He took a deep breath and rolled the whistle in his hands before nervously putting it in his mouth. Then he blew as hard as he could.

Commissioner Gordon looked at the living flames of the inferno that had consumed a warehouse block in a matter of minutes. The Gotham City Fire Department already called in help from the nearby towns and trucks were en route.

Man, Joker had really wanted that kid dead.

Speaking of Timothy, the boy was tougher than he looked. Some singed hair and a minor burn on his back from the heat, but other than that, he was fine. Blake had made sure of it, using his body as a shield for the kid when the bomb went off. And of course, Batman had dragged both of them clear, using his cape to block the heat and flames as much as possible.

Officer Blake was now on his way to the local hospital with multiple burns and road rash from where he had rolled away with Tim. The doctors had already informed Gordon that he should make a full recovery, with little scarring. The Commissioner made a note to promote the Officer at a later date.

Currently, Detective Yin was interviewing Timothy with Batman standing close by. Tim’s answers were slow and clearly painful to talk about. If they weren’t in such a hurry, the Commissioner would have insisted the boy sleep before they got a statement- but who knew how long the other three boys had.

Gordon had made sure the press stayed away from the scene. A full statement would be released once all of the boys had been recovered- hopefully alive. It was best to keep the kidnapping and attempted murder talk of children down until after the incident. Gordon pinched his nose. PR was a pain.

Yin appeared to have finished her interview and rejoined Gordon, “Harley Quinn took him off the streets at gunpoint. He says the other three boys are his foster brothers and Joker is planning to kill them all. He isn’t sure where Joker is now.”

“Motive on the kidnapping?”

Yin frowned and turned her head to look over at Timothy. Gordon followed her eyes and saw Batman crouched down next to the boy, talking in lowered tones. Something he said must have angered the boy because his expression darkened. Yin hesitated a moment before speaking. “He wouldn’t tell me, but I think it has something to do with the Bat.”

Gordon continued to watch the exchange. Tim said something that made Batman stand straight up. The boy visibly paled a shade, but his face was still determined, pointing at the watching cops and then pointing at the vigilante. Batman shook his head, replying in hushed tones but Tim stamped his foot.

“I think you’re right, Detective.” Which was weird, as Batman had told him he had no idea why the boys had been taken. He made a mental note to push him for answers...later.

Batman’s shoulders slumped slightly and he said something that made Tim’s face brighten. Batman pointed over at the Batmobile, motioned for Tim to stay put, then turned away. He approached the police quickly.

When he spoke, his voice sounded annoyed and (dare Gordon say it?) defeated. “I am going after Joker… and Timothy is coming with me.”

Detective Yin immediately protested, “You cannot take a child after a mad man!”

Gordon could have sworn Batman shrunk back slightly. “I have to. He is the only one who might have a clue where the Joker went. We don’t have a lot of time to run around Gotham chasing dead ends.” Batman’s posture changed to defensive, “He will remain in my car at all times and I will make sure nothing happens to him.”

Commissioner Gordon felt as if a large weight had dropped down on his shoulders. “Batman, I let you do a lot of things that most officers would disapprove of, but this… this is something I cannot accept.”

Batman hesitated, “We don’t have a choice.” He didn’t sound happy about it either. “Tim is the only one who might know where the other boys are. I’m sorry, Commissioner.” The three of them turned to look at Tim, who waved nervously.

Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, “Does he know?”

Batman answered, the reluctance clear, “He was the one who insisted on it.” Without another word, Batman walked away.

The GCPD officers watched as Tim ran, almost eagerly, to the Batmobile, then climbed in the passenger seat. Batman hopped in, closing the hood and the two drove off, tires shrieking and engines roaring.

Yin spoke first, “Why do I get the feeling Batman didn’t want this any more than we did?”

Gordon turned away, too afraid to answer. If it was a no, then Batman was pulling a very dangerous stunt. If it was yes, what did Tim say to make the Dark Knight agree to take him with him?

Tim wasn’t the blackmailing type. Honest. But at the same time… well, he wasn’t sitting out of this one. Joker had his brothers, thank you very much. This was personal .

And, he did give Mr. Wayne a chance to take him willingly. It was only after his utter refusal did Tim have to bring up the tiny fact that, oh right, he knew who he was under that mask. And hey, if the police asked the right questions, something might slip.

Of course, Batman wasn’t happy. At all. Tim was a little frightened he went too far but stood with his resolve. They were the closest thing he had to family, dang it! And he was coming!

The first minute in the car passed in silence, the two of them just watching Gotham speed by in a blur.

Tim didn’t even blink when the question was finally asked. “How did you find out who I was?” The gravel in the Bat’s voice was gone which meant Bruce Wayne was at the helm at the moment.

“Well…” Tim rubbed the back of his neck, a little nervous. “It was actually an accident.”

There was no reaction so Tim took that as his cue to continue. “Remember how I, uh, have a police radio frequency on my computer? Well, I was trying to tune out the static about… a year ago? And I may have hacked your frequency…” 

Bruce turned to look at the boy, his expression blank. Tim held his hands up in a shrug, “In my defense, I didn’t know it was yours. At first, I thought it was some other police scanner but the longer I listened to the conversation… well, I learned some things. And you and your… uh… Well, Mr. Pennyworth didn’t always use your code names. Especially when something really bad happened or you were injured. Batman is obviously not British and while ‘Bruce’ is a semi-common name, there is only one man in the city who I thought could fit the description.”

“Me.”

Tim forced a smile, “When I called your house, I was about ninety-nine percent sure but Mr. Pennyworth confirmed it.”

Bruce made a note to stress codenames on the radio. “Alright, why did you think I fit the description?”

“What?”

“You said you thought I was the only one who fits. Why did you think that?”

“A few things.” Tim began to count off his fingers, “You could fund all the gadgets, car, and suit with Wayne Industries, which is also a good place to research and build them. The age seemed right, as did your weight and height… or at least I thought it did. When I met you in both forms it was easier to look and compare and I thought it was the same. Bruce Wayne is a socialite which is a perfect cover if you want an excuse why you haven’t been around- business trip, date across the world, etc., etc. And of course, motive…” Tim ticked the last one-off, his voice dying in his throat.

Bruce reached over and took the boy's hand. “I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man.”

Tim blinked rapidly and brushed aside the tears in his eyes. “Thank… thank you, Mr. Wayne.” He gently squeezed the billionaire’s hand, “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Bruce stiffened and pulled away. Tim bit his lip, realizing too late it was probably a bad subject to bring up, especially during the given circumstances.

“Alright,” Batman’s voice was back and Tim straightened up. Back to business. “If you figured all of that out from a radio frequency, you must have gotten a clue of some sort where the Joker went. Think, Crow! Was there anything Joker said or did that was off?”

Tim shook his head, “I don’t think so. I mean… he’s the Joker so everything he does is a little… off.”

“I won’t deny that,” Batman grumbled. “Think back. Close your eyes and picture what happened right after he hooked you up to that collar. You couldn’t speak so you listened. What did you hear?”

Tim complied, leaning back into his seat. He was silent for a moment as he recalled the events from only a few hours ago. “Joker laughed a lot. I remember thinking the joke was awful. The others were dragged away kicking and screaming, but Jason managed to get to me. Then they dragged him away.”

“What about after that?”

“I heard… a door slam. They put the others in a car because the engine started up a short time later. It was probably the same truck they brought me in.”

“What was the vehicle?”

“It looked like an old TV studio van. You know, the one with televisions and computers used for editing on the go? But the back had been stripped of most of the equipment and the seat was used by Joker. The outside was… white.”

Batman grabbed his radio and called the Commissioner. He reported the car and Gordon promised to start looking. The two hung up and Batman turned back to his junior detective. “Anything else? Anything that might have been said?”

“Uh…” Tim’s face scrunched up in confusion before his eyes popped open. “Joker yelled something at his goons right before the engine started. He said something about… running errands?”

“What kind of errands?”

Tim shrugged, “The engine drowned out most of the noise but I think he either said, ‘We gotta pick up a tank!’ or ‘We’re going to the bank!’ Both of those options seem logical since… well, he’s the Joker.”

Batman had to give the kid that. He pulled up a map of Gotham and highlighted any place there was a tank (which there were two, oddly enough) or a bank (that was much more). “Anything else?”

Tim shook his head.

Well, it was better than nothing. Batman began to drive to the nearest location (which happened to be one of the tanks). They sat in silence, each with their own thoughts.

The tank was still intact and security footage showed no one had been there in the past twelve hours. Batman sighed and started towards the next star on his map. Tim tapped his fingers on his knee and stared out the window. Rain was starting to fall, which didn’t help the mood at all. He began to trace the drops as they rolled by, his thoughts racing.

Bruce was on autopilot at the moment. Driving had become easy and he knew the streets of Gotham like the back of his hand, which allowed him to watch Tim. He was too young to be involved in something like this. He had already lost his father, the last thing that should happen to him was losing his adopted family.

Anger rose up in his chest and he struggled for a moment to get control again. Part of him wanted to find Joker and throw him off the nearest building and watch him slam into the pavement. But, he knew he couldn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t be any better than the psycho clown. Kidnapping children was just wrong- and why these four? Why ? They hadn’t done anything to Joker!

Right? 

Batman’s anger died down to a manageable level as his mind scrambled over the evidence. The Birds had smashed the Penguin’s cargo and, in a way, helped stop a Two-Face robbery. They had ticked off Riddler and talked with Catwoman. Had there been a run-in with the Joker that he wasn’t aware of?

He glanced over at Tim who was still tracing rain. “Crow.”

“Yes, Batman?”

“Why did Joker take you four?”

Tim stopped tracing the rain. He didn’t turn towards Batman, if anything he turned further away. His answer was quiet, almost too quiet to be heard but the words pierced Bruce’s soul. “Because of you.”

The air was knocked from Bruce’s lungs and he almost lost control of the car. He managed to jerk the wheel back on a straight course before he asked, “ What?” The question was soft but demanding.

Tim pulled his knees up and hugged his legs, still refusing to look at the Dark Knight, “He thought we worked for you or something. He had pictures, videos, of you with all of us. I tried to tell him otherwise, but…” he rubbed his cheek as if trying to wipe away some mark that wasn’t there. “Mr. Wayne, I don’t blame you for what’s happened. I want you to know that.”

Bruce wanted to believe it, but Tim still wasn’t looking at him. And even if Tim was telling the truth, Bruce definitely blamed himself. How could he be such a fool? Everyone who came in contact with him on a regular basis was a target of his enemies. Commissioner Gordon was a perfect example, but being in danger was part of his job description. He prepared for it. The Birds? They were just kids! And he pulled them into a war without even realizing it.

“Tim…” Bruce started. He didn’t know what to say, but he needed to apologize or something. “I… I didn’t know…”

Tim suddenly straightened up, “The pictures.”

Bruce frowned. “What?”

Tim turned to him, eyes wide and full of… something. Something hopeful. “The pictures! Joker had pictures of us with you! One was from the wharf, that first night you met us. With the Penguin, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Batman almost smiled. ‘How could I forget?’

Tim pointed excitedly in that direction, “The warehouse he put me in was on the wharf! Not the exact harbor, or anything, but close enough!” He pointed at the map, “Another picture was of the bank, with Two-face? It might be a long shot, but-”

“Joker might have gone there with the other Birds.” Batman hit his brakes and spun the car around, speeding off in the direction of uptown.

Tim grabbed hold of his seat and managed not to scream with fright at the sudden change of direction. When the car was straight again, he continued on, almost excited, “Joker would think it funny if he killed us in the same places we met you. Like a sick joke, or something.”

“I agree,” Batman increased the speed before chancing a glance over at the mini detective. He nodded and allowed a small smile, “Good work, Crow.”

Tim blushed and found himself unable to speak. But this time, that was a good thing.

When they got to the bank, all was quiet and dark. Made sense, as it was Gotham at one in the morning. The businesses had long closed their doors and turned their lights off, leaving only the glow of the street lamps to light traveler’s ways. The bank was in a similar fashion, windows dark, only the sign illuminated by spotlights beneath it.

The Batmobile pulled off into the alley across the street from it and Batman popped the hood open. “Stay here.”

“But-”

“That is an order , Tim. Understand?” He gave Tim a look he had learned meant, ‘ No arguing’ . Tim nodded before leaning back with a sigh.

“Good.” Batman pulled out his grapple gun. “I’ll be in touch on the radio.” And just like that, he was gone into the night.

Tim leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He sent a silent prayer that his hunch was right and crossed his fingers.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Tim when the radio crackled to life. A very familiar voice growled, “Nothing. Only a slacking security guard and a vault full of money.”

To Tim's surprise, Alfred's voice crackled in response, “Don't worry, sir. You will find them.”

Tim buried his face in his hands and bit his lip to prevent any sounds of despair from being heard. He had been so sure they would be here! But he had just wasted precious time.

He moaned, leaned back again, and dropped his hands down. His left hand fell onto a button and the top of the Batmobile rolled away. Only a second later the radio flared to life, “Crow, my computer says you opened the Batmobile.”

“It was an accident. I'll close it.” He frowned down at the middle panel. He had pushed the red button… or at least he thought it was the red one. Maybe it had been the blue one? Tim scrunched his face, annoyed. Red or blue? Maybe he should just wait until Batman-

Something shrilled in the wind. Tim whipped his head around and peered into the darkness. What the heck was that? It was too soft to be a siren, but it was too high to be standard machinery. And it had sounded… muffled. Maybe the wind itself…?

Closing the roof was now forgotten as Tim climbed out of the car and out into the cold rain. He strained his ears for anything out of the ordinary.

There!

It was coming from the alley next to the bank building. Tim dashed into the dark without thinking. Something about the sound was familiar, he just couldn’t place it.

The alley was empty, except for the three dumpsters and the abandoned safe to the side. Tim opened each dumpster and checked, barely managing not to scream when the rats came crawling out. Eww…

“I told you to wait in the car.”

Tim jumped ten feet and pressed himself against the dumpster. “I… I thought I heard something.”

Batman looked angry and that alone made Tim want to crawl away. “Come.” The tone left no room for any arguments and Batman turned away, his cape waving for him to follow.

Tim went to do so when a different sound made both of them pause. It was still muffled. It wasn’t high or shrieking, but dull and almost hollow. Tim’s eyes flicked to the closed safe. He knelt down and tried the door. Locked.

“Crow, get away from that. It could be a trap.”

Tim ignored him. What did Jason do when he was cracking a safe? He pressed his ear against the door and listened to the dials. Tim felt a little foolish but he did just that and twisted the knobs. Clicks were heard but…

Was that someone breathing?

“Timothy!” Batman grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pulled him away.

Tim did not resist but pointed at the safe. “I think something’s in here.”

Batman nodded acknowledgment. “Stay right here while I check it out.” He carefully approached the safe, moving to the side. Batman knocked on top of the safe. They definitely heard the thud that time. Batman heard it too, evident from the frown that grew on his face. He knelt down next to the door and tested the dial. He stood up and pulled out a few tools from his belt, then waved at Tim to step back even further. Just in case.

The combination took only a few minutes to crack. Batman was expecting a bomb of Joker gas or a jack-in-the-box to come flying out at him in an attempt to scare him. Joker always did like a good practical joke.

What he wasn’t expecting was Jason to come tumbling out of the safe, gasping for air.

“Jason!” Tim tackled the boy (which wasn’t too hard since Jason was already on the ground).

Jason’s eyelids fluttered and his rough, large inhales of air indicated how close the boy had been from suffocating. Bruce swallowed down the bile in his throat. Two down. Two to go.

Tim helped Jason sit upon his knees. “Thank Gotham, Jason. Are you alright?”

Jason blinked a few times at Tim in silence before suddenly throwing his arms around his little brother. He clung to him as if his life depended on it. “Timmy, I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry…”

Tim looked very confused. He locked eyes with Batman and pointed at Jason as if to say, ‘Any thoughts on this?’ Batman shrugged in response.

Jason was babbling nonsense, and Tim swore he had some tears running down his cheeks, but Tim caught enough of the words to get the message. He quickly pulled out of Jason’s reach, then clamped a hand over the older boy’s mouth. “Before you say another word: we’re not dead.”

Jason’s face scrunched up with confusion.

Tim pointed over at Batman and Jason’s eyes widened as he seemed to see the Dark Knight for the first time. “He saved me before the bomb went off. We had to… pull it close so Joker wouldn’t find out.” Tim pulled his hand away and gave a small smile, “We’re not dead.”

Jason looked back at the safe that was now open, then back at Tim. He lurched to his feet and wiped away any tears remaining in his eyes, then punched Tim in the shoulder. “Alright, step-bird. Glad you’re not barbeque.” He leaned in very close and his voice lowered, “That didn’t happen. Got it?”

Tim nodded dutifully, without surprise. “Glad you’re still breathing too.” Tim looked around, hoping for another safe or something. His shoulders sagged, “The others aren’t here, are they?”

Jason shook his head. “No. Joker took them somewhere.”

“Did he say anything about where?” Batman stepped in.

Jason shook his head and Bruce felt his heart sing into his feet.

Bruce frowned, his next question aimed at Tim, “What were the other locations Joker knew about?”

“Well,” Tim looked up at the wet sky, allowing some of the raindrops to stream down his face, “There was the wharf, then the bank, and…” Tim paled. “Uh oh.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like what ‘uh oh’ is?”

Tim turned to Batman, eyes wide. “We need to go. Now.”

Chapter Text

Grayson hadn’t spoken since Todd had been locked away. By Damian’s estimate, he’d say that was around two hours ago. The two of them hadn’t moved from their position either, leaning against the back of the truck, one hand gripping the other. Damian’s right leg was asleep and he couldn’t move without feeling stiff, but he had barely shifted positions anyway. Generally, Damian would have found this physical display of brotherly affection appalling, to say the least. But generally, Drake and Todd were alive.

He had not cried. Not yet, at least. No way was Joker going to get that pleasure, no matter what happened. He kept his face passive and didn’t make a sound. Grayson kept looking at him, the concern and worry on his face evident, but he remained silent.

Damian swallowed down his anger each time. Grayson was worried about him? Drake was gone, Todd was either dead or dying with no hope of rescue, and Dick was concerned about him ?

Joker’s goons had pulled the van over almost an hour ago and left Joker and Quinn with them. Damian wasn’t sure what that meant, but it probably wasn’t good. He’d been expecting Joker gas or torture of some sort. Instead, Joker and Quinn had stepped outside and were yelling insults at their ‘employees’. Mostly calls of work faster, or what a bunch of losers they were.

This went on for quite some time before Grayson finally found his voice, “Baby bird? You okay?”

Damian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His answer was a whisper, “ No .”

“Oh, Robin…” Grayson tried to lay his free hand on Damian’s cheek to comfort him, but Damian jerked away. Grayson frowned. “I’m sorry .”

“Not your fault,” Damian mumbled. “ Joker’s .” The name was spat out with venom and Damian had to take another deep breath to keep calm. Panicking helped no one.

Grayson squeezed Damian’s hand, most likely in an attempt to give comfort. It did not help. “I couldn’t keep them safe, Robin. I tried- ” his voice cut off with a sob and Grayson bent his down low.

Damian leaned against his older brother, eyes fixed on their intertwined hands. He tried not to notice how tightly they were clinging to one another. “Not your fault,” he repeated, a little more firmly, “Did all you could.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Grayson choked out.

And there was nothing to say to that.

Damian could not look at Grayson. He knew if he did, all self-control would be lost. The tears would come, the fear would rise up, and he would scream. His hands were already shaking from saying those few choppy sentences. 

The van door slammed open, making both flinch back. Joker grinned at the two. “Last stop for birdy number three!” Quinn was standing behind him, her ridiculous hammer slung over her shoulder. Her high-pitched squeal made his ears ring, but Damian managed to keep his face passive.

The two watched as Joker climbed up into the van and slowly approached them. He stopped and looked between the two of them, eyes darting back and forth. “Mm… only two passengers remain, but who’s stop is it?” Damian was very sure Joker already knew who was going next, he just wanted to play with his toys beforehand.

Joker cackled as his eyes locked onto Damian. Damian felt his heart stop.

Do not show weakness, do not cry, do not scream, do not even blink-

Dick’s grip tightened on his as Joker leaned down to eye level. “How about you, baby bird?”

Damian didn't move. Joker went to grab his arm, but Grayson threw himself in front of him and growled, “Don't touch him!”

Joker laughed as he kicked Grayson in the stomach. The boy went sprawling. Damian felt Joker take him by his arm and hoist him to his feet. He managed to swallow his scream and keep his tears from falling.

Or at least, he was able to until Dick locked eyes with him. The horror and pure agony in his oldest brother's eyes made something snap . Reality slapped Damian back into his body and one thought seared through his mind.

He was going to die.

The effect was instantaneous. The blank look was gone, replaced with one of pure terror. Damian kicked and punched Joker, but was unable to get free completely, getting dragged back no matter how many hits he landed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Dick screaming and pleading, but the words filtered in one ear and out the other. Joker was laughing, even when a lucky blow gave him a bloody nose. Damian was punching and kicking and then suddenly-

-he was in midair . 

By some miracle, he was able to roll on impact, which helped him not break anything but it would definitely leave a mark. Damian groaned and painfully pushed himself to his feet. 

Ignore the screaming pain, ignore that gash on your arm from the ground, ignore everything but your surroundings.

It took only a few seconds to recognize where he was. But those seconds of the unknown had been a comfort, apparently . Damian had been thrown from prison and into the lion’s den.

And he didn’t mean figuratively.

Somewhere above him in darkness, Joker was cackling, “Have fun with the cats! I made sure they haven’t been fed for weeks!”

Damian swallowed hard, casting his eyes around in the dark. He couldn’t see a thing!

Then don’t see. Feel.

Damian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He organized his thoughts as quickly as possible.

He recalled the lion exhibit layout from his outing with Jason a few months back. A picture was brought forward and Damian began to break it down. Three cats: one male, two female. One of the females was going to have a cub soon, he recalled. She had been off exhibit for the past month.

So, only two lions to deal with. The exhibit was made of mostly rocks but there was a large tree in the middle. It had been there before the zoo had been built and it had some significant value which was why it hadn’t been touched… unless you counted the lions clawing the trunk.

The trunk would be smooth from sharpening claws. Damian would have to be quick and he’d have to jump high. Could lions climb? He was going to find out soon. The tree was to his left if he was remembering the exhibit correctly. About… ten yards? Lions weren’t the biggest “big” cat (that belonged to the Tiger), but that did not mean they were not fast.

Lions were nocturnal. Damian did know that. Which meant his two new friends were very much awake. The rustling in the bushes to his right was confirmation of that. He took a few small steps towards the tree, but another rustle stopped him.

Lion on left, and on right. He needed to get past both of them.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You have one shot at this.

Damian opened his eyes. They had adjusted enough by now to see the silhouettes of his hunters. The male was to his left, which might actually be better. Females did most of the hunting anyway… right?

Joker and Harley had been laughing above, watching the show as best they could when Joker suddenly cursed and yelled at his men to pack up the van. Dick screamed and there were scuffling noises as he was dragged back. Damian had a small heart attack when he realized Dick had been watching him. Part of him was grateful Joker was leaving with his older brother- the last thing Dick needed to see was his littlest brother being torn limb from limb. Another part of him felt a stab of panic as he realized he was truly alone. 

And this time no one was coming to look for him.

Female lion pounced and only Damian’s small size and quick reaction time saved him from being sliced in half. He sprinted at the male, and to his own surprise and probably the lions, managed to step up on the lion’s face then jumped up and over the head and onto his back.

Male reared up in surprise and Damian tumbled off, sprinting to where he hoped the tree was. Female got her footing back and chased after him, trying to pounce again. Damian dropped to the ground and she leaped over him. She tumbled on her landing which gave Damian time to jump up and hurry around her. He scrambled and was finally able to see the outline of the tree.

Another duck and tumble as male lunged for the first time, this time with his claws. Damian was halfway there.

Joker called out something about being sorry to miss the show, but Damian honestly didn’t care. No way was he going to let a stupid clown be the death of him! Not if he could help it.

He leaped up onto a rock, then jumped over the crouching female and pumped his legs. He was five feet from the tree when she caught him.

Damian would never deny the scream that came out of him when the female grabbed hold of his left leg. It was loud, it was painful, and it was shrill. It was also the last sound Dick would hear as the van doors slammed shut with a Joker laugh and tires screeching.

It was the noise that echoed through the last bird’s head along with Tim’s cries of protests (before he was unable to make them) and Jason’s muffled shouts. 

Dick pulled his legs into his chest and screamed .

Batman was grateful he had called the Commissioner with the next location. He just wished they had turned off their sirens.

“I see ‘em!” Jason was the first one to spot the white van, which was now tearing away from Gotham Public Zoo at a high speed.

Batman increased the gas and started to chase them, but Tim almost screamed, “ No !” He pointed at the zoo, “If the pattern holds, Joker left someone there. We have to help them!”

Jason protested, “The van is right there!”

“Joker isn’t going to kill whoever he has right away! He has to get to another location. Whoever is in the zoo may not have long!”

Batman had to agree and swung the car back to the zoo entrance. The Commissioner would continue the chase, once they caught up to him. “Hang on!” 

Forget parking spots and forget gates, they were going to ram through the doors. Lucky for them, Joker had already done the same and it was pretty easy to follow the trail of knocked-over trash cans and park benches.

The trail stopped near the big cat exhibit. Batman stopped the car and turned to the boys. “I need you to stay-”

Someone screamed. High, loud, and panicked.

At the same time Jason and Tim yelled, “DAMIAN!” then proceeded to leap out of the car. Batman didn’t protest, running after them before passing them.

If he’d had time, Bruce would have stopped to be impressed by the youngest bird. Somehow (and he didn’t want to think about how), Damian had climbed about halfway up the trunk of a decent-sized tree. He was clinging for dear life, blood practically pouring from his left leg. A female lion was standing on her hind legs, trying to pull her food down. A male was stalking around the tree, waiting for the kid to fall.

Batman climbed up over the railing easily and threw one of his batarangs. He grazed the female’s cheek, leaving a small, but not dangerous, cut. It was enough to draw her attention away from the boy and that was all he needed. A grapple trip there and then one back was simple and fast enough to confuse the lions and get Damian up the tree the rest of the way, then to the safety of solid ground and railing.

Jason and Tim pulled Damian down to the ground and held him tightly as tears streamed down his face. Batman pulled out his first-aid kit, complete with antibacterial spray, bandages, and anti-bacterial spray. Damian clung to his older brothers but issued no sounds of pain as Batman ripped away what remained of his lower pant leg, cleaned the wound, and wrapped it tightly. He also remained still as he was administered a rabies shot (What? Killer Croc wasn’t exactly clean, now was he?) and given a quick first-aid look over.

“You kept yourself from going into shock when you were injured,” Batman sounded impressed.

Damian did not comment, not completely sure what that meant, but it sounded like a good thing. He chose to tighten his grip on Jason and Tim, still not quite sure how they were alive and there, but honestly not caring. Nor did he care about the physical show of brotherly affection. He was too happy to be alive- all of them to be alive- to care.

Jason gently ruffled Damian’s hair, ‘Good to see you too.’

Damian buried his head into Jason’s chest, ‘Do not ever do that again.’

Bruce almost smiled at the sight. Three down. Only Dick was left. He pressed on his radio and called the Commissioner, “Where is the Joker?”

The answer was a little rough and warbled with sirens still blaring on the other side. “He’s headed further uptown, but we haven’t gotten his location pinned yet. Or him.”

Batman turned to Tim, “Any ideas where Joker might be headed?”

Tim frowned and pulled away from his two brothers. “That’s just it, Batman. Joker had pictures of the wharf, a video of the bank, and a picture of the zoo. That was all he showed me. He could be anywhere.”

Jason frowned, “Our apartment?”

“No,” Batman pinched his nose, “Joker already went there. It has to be somewhere else. Somewhere uptown.” The only place he could remember running into the Birds’ uptown was at Veronica’s party. But that had been Bruce Wayne, not Batman.

Tim caught his eye and Bruce assumed the boy was going through the same process. Bruce shook his head slightly, ‘Not that.’

The boy nodded and changed the subject, “Didn’t Joker leave you a party invitation? Doesn’t it have a clue?”

Batman was already shaking his head. “Just a sick joke and the time the bomb was going to go off.”

“A joke? Seriously?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“He left one with each of you.”

“How quaint,” Damian grumbled to himself.

Tim frowned, “What did they say?”

Batman frowned but repeated the jokes to them. Jason’s face went red with anger and Damian looked disgusted. Tim looked thoughtful. “Mine was about losing my voice, right?”

Batman nodded.

“Damian’s was about being food.”

Another nod. Batman was starting to see where the conversation was going.

“Jason’s was about getting locked up.” Tim paled. “Which means Dick’s is…”

“What do you call a bird that can’t fly?” Jason whispered. “By Gotham… you don’t think Joker is going to cut off his arms, do you?”

Tim was already shaking his head. “No. Wingless is a play on Dick’s code name. Nightwing. A bird that can’t fly is Wing-less.”

“Uh…” Damian looked a little uncomfortable, “This would not have to do with Dick’s… nighttime adventures?”

Jason tensed up, “How do you know-?”

“Please, Todd,” Damian rolled his eyes, “It is not that difficult to know.”

Tim didn’t look surprised either, so Jason guessed he shouldn’t be too surprised. Even Batman was as passive as ever. Which meant Batman probably knew about it. And if the Bat knew about it, Joker might know.

Tim must have come to the same conclusion because his next questions were rapid-fire, all directed at Batman. “Do you know about Dick’s parkouring?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“A few weeks.”

“Could Joker and/or one of his informers have seen it?”

“Possibly.”

“Where did this take place?”

“A rooftop downtown. Not only is it in the wrong direction, but it was also in a local neighborhood. Joker wouldn’t take him there. He’d want a show.”

“Did you… mention any place that could provide a show?”

“No-” Batman’s voice suddenly cut off. He pulled out something from his utility belt and unfolded it. Tim was unable to get a good look at first, but it was some sort of paper guide. He flipped through it and stopped on a page before letting out a curse. “I found this in Dick’s bag.” He held it out to Tim.

A Gotham City tourist brochure? Why would Dick have one of those?

Batman motioned at the pamphlet. “The Joker might have planted it. The back picture is of-”

Commissioner Gordon’s voice suddenly blared to life, “Wayne Towers! Joker is at Wayne Towers!”

For once, Bruce wished he could have been wrong about something.

Chapter Text

When Batman had told Dick he might find himself on top of Wayne Towers, he probably hadn’t meant like this.

For one, Joker and Harley had run into the building, dragging Dick along at gunpoint. Any guard that got close or tried to stop them were either shoved aside, shot, or forced to surrender when one of the clowns pointed out their young hostage. The elevator was taken up as high as it could and then Joker took him up even higher via the maintenance ladders, leaving Harley to stand guard at the entrance to the roof.

By the time Joker called the ascent “high enough”, Dick was out of breath and even with his acrobatic background, the height was making his vision spin. It was a long way down.

Not that it really mattered anymore.

The rain had soaked his jacket, which was now sticking to his skin. His body was racked with chills and the cold bit into his bones. The wind grabbed his hood and pulled at it, yanking it down. Rain drizzled on his hair and dripped down his nose. Some of the drops mixed with his tears, leaving a taste of salt.

Dick was… not really thinking of anything. Some part of his brain registered the fact that he should be terrified. After all, Joker had a gun and looked more than ready to use it. But in all honesty, he was tired. Tired of being afraid, tired of being dragged around all night, just… tired.

Joker was cackling to himself. He bent down slightly and peered over the side at the flashing blue and red lights below that Dick vaguely translated as police cars. It was too high to properly hear the sirens, but a high-pitched noise reached through the rain and wind every so often.

Joker shook his head, “Look who came to see the big finale! Too bad they weren’t on the guestlist… I hate crashers, don’t you Nightwing?”

Dick closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. It did little to help with the cold, but he could pretend it was Damian, giving him one of his rare hugs. His stubborn, frightened, baby brother that had been… had been…

A sob broke loose and Dick tightened his grip on his arms. Maybe Damian was hugging him in the form of a spirit. Dick could only hope.

“Aww… something wrong little bird?” Joker cackled. He leaned in close to Dick’s face, so much so that Dick could smell the rotten stench emanating from the clown’s yellow teeth. “Can’t say I’m surprised. If Bats really did care for you, he would have been here by now. Don’t ya think?”

Dick turned his head away, the sobs coming out worse. His grip on his arms moved up to his shoulders. He imagined Jason gripping him tightly, about to lecture him about jumping across very high gaps. Again. If he could see him now, Dick had no doubt that Jason would punch him square in the jaw. Those buildings hadn’t been sky-scrapers that towered so far above the ground, any slip would result in instant death.

Much like Dick’s parents.

“Don’t worry, I’m not completely heartless!” Joker slung his arm around the boy. Dick shivered at the physical contact. He wanted to shove the clown as hard as he could and maybe watch the psycho tumble down below.

But Dick was tired. His arms felt like lead and his chest physically hurt from how much he had been sobbing all night. 

Joker waved his hand out over the nightscape, that sick grin never dying. “You get a choice on how you want to go. It’s only fair since you had to wait 'til the end for your present.”

“Why?” Dick managed to stammer out. “We didn’t do anything to you! THEY DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

Joker’s smile slid off his face for a moment, his expression almost regretful. If the clown could even regret things. “Can you keep a secret?” 

Dick thought that was a rather stupid question since he was going to be dead in the next few minutes. But Joker did not even wait for a response. “Bats and I go back quite a ways. I was never his first fight, no, I don’t have that honor. But I like to think that I am his greatest challenge. And ya know something?” Joker leaned in again and Dick finally put some effort into pulling away. It wasn’t much, but Dick would take any distance from this monster.

Joker’s voice lowered as if telling a secret, despite the fact that no one was around to hear them. “I know him better than he thinks. I’ve been watching for several years now. I know when something has changed when something is wrong or when something is right. And these past few months? Something has been wrong. Terribly wrong!” Joker made a “tsking” sound and shook his head as if scolding. “He’s become distracted! He’s less fun to play with! It’s like something is more important than chasing after my goons and me. He’s less… BATSY, I suppose.”

Joker grabbed Dick’s chin and forced him to look into Joker’s sick, almost glowing, green eyes, “At first, I couldn’t figure out why. First, I thought that stupid Justice Leauge had finally recruited him for their ‘international movement for peace’ or whatever they’re calling it. Then, I thought the pesky Cat had finally sunk her claws into him.” He cackled to himself, “And then I learned about you little birdies.” The word was spat out like some vile venom.

Joker slid his hand to the back of Dick’s neck and pushed the gun up in Dick’s face, “Four kids start working with Bats and suddenly he’s a pushover. HA!” Joker grinned ear to ear, “I’m doing the big boy a favor getting rid of his distractions!” He laughed again, “Then it can finally go back to the way things were: I snap my fingers and the Bat starts running.”

Dick closed his eyes, the tears streaming freely down his face. The gun was suddenly removed and Dick could breathe a little easier.

“So when I say this isn’t personal, I mean it, Nightwing.” Joker shrugged. “And to prove it, you get two options about how you get to go.”

Joker turned Dick back around to the view of Gotham. “Option one: I shoot you, then drop your body to the ground below.” The gun pressed against the back of Dick’s skull and Dick couldn’t breathe. “Two,” Joker pulled the cold rod away, “You jump.”

Dick looked down at the height. There would be no breaking his fall this time around. Then again, why would he break his fall? It wasn’t like there was anyone left to miss him.

Or even care.

Joker must have read his mind. “I’ve seen you jump off a building before, kid. Normally, I’d suggest you get some professional help. But look how I’ve turned out with that?” Joker gripped Dick’s shoulders and pointed at the ground, “You like the feeling, don’t ya? Something about the wind in your face and the twisting in your stomach. That’s the same way I feel when I get the drop on Batman! And how rare an occasion that is…” Joker laughed, long and loud.

Thoughts rolled over in Dick’s mind as the wind whipped in his hair. His hands had found their way to his sides, clenched into fists that were gripping nothing. For a brief second, he pictured holding Tim’s hands after one of the boy's nightmares.

The last one to join their new family but the first to leave.

The feeling of the cold barrel of the pistol against his head snapped him back into the present. “So… what’s it gonna be, Wing?” Joker cocked the trigger. “Bullet or drop?”

Dick looked down.

The bullet would probably be quick. Maybe. But so would the sudden stop at the bottom of the building. Probably.

But Dick was a Grayson. A Flying Grayson.

He supposed it was more of the Falling Graysons at this point.

Arms shaking, he raised them up, looking like a cross. He looked up at the sky and found a sliver of moon poking out before fading forever.

The gun barrel pulled away and Joker let out a high-pitched giggle, “Oooo… any last words you’d like me to tell Batsy?”

Dick’s fear faded into acceptance. Well, he was going to die. Might as well take a chance on Batman (if Joker actually gave the message). Dick only had one promise left in his life that hadn’t been fulfilled. Then again, he had failed all the other promises. Those had been shattered into broken pieces only hours previously. 

One last promise. One last secret. One last chance. Dick took a shuddering breath. “Only two words.”

Joker giggled, “Yes?” 

"Tony Zucco.”

And then he jumped.

Commissioner Gordon looked very confused when Batman pulled up and three boys climbed out from the passenger seat. How much room did the vigilante even have in there? More than he thought, apparently.

He shook those questions aside. There would be plenty of time for that later. There were more important things to focus on at the moment.

Batman marched up the boys right behind him. “They need a doctor.”

“Ambulance already in route,” Gordon replied. The bandages wrapped around the smallest boy's leg were concerning, but he looked more angry about the situation than in actual pain. Tim did not appear worse for wear and the other boy looked bruised and cut, but nothing too serious. 

Gordon motioned at the building and began to fill Batman in on the situation. “Joker has locked himself on the roof. Harley is with him, as far as we can tell, but two of his men are guarding the front door. We can’t get close enough without getting shot at and there are hostages inside.

Batman gently lowered Damian to the ground and Jason and Tim were quick to prop the boy upon his good leg. Then he turned his attention to the Commissioner, “What about Richard?”

“With Joker, as far as we can tell. We have a chopper lifting off as we speak. ETA two minutes.”

“We may not have two minutes.” Batman looked up at the top of Wayne Towers, squinting into the darkness. He thought he could see the figures on the roof, but the rain and lights made it difficult to tell.

As the two talked, the Birds were huddled a few feet behind them. They gripped one another tightly and tried to ignore the biting chill of the late autumn night. All of them had their eyes locked on the very high, distant blobs above that looked way too high for comfort.

Damian spoke up first, his voice soft and low, “What do you think Joker’s going to do?”

Jason bit his lip, unsure of what to say.

“Not sure,” Tim mumbled, “But I hope it isn’t what I think it is.”

“Come on, Wing,” Jason grumbled to himself, “Don’t do something stupid.”

The three looked away as Batman pulled out his grabble and zipped off into the night. Commissioner Gordon approached them, a small smile on his face. “You must be Damian and Jason. I’m Jim Gordon.”

Damian shook his hand politely. Jason just nodded in response.

“Where is Batman going?” Tim asked, not even trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Gordon’s smile faded. “Hopefully to get your friend on the roof. I’d hate to be Joker right now. Can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Batman this angry.”

“He didn’t seem angry,” Jason raised an eyebrow.

Gordon chuckled, “He’s angry, alright. Trust me on this. I’ve worked with him enough to know how he’s feeling.”

Tim looked up at the roof again. “Is that Dick?”

Gordon followed the boy's eyes. Joker’s purple suit was unmistakable even in the distant light. A smaller build in blue was beside him. “We think so. It’s hard to tell from here, but we’ll have confirmation in a few minutes.”

Tim frowned. Joker was moving around quite a bit and Dick was hardly moving at all. That fact alone had cause for alarm. Then, Dick raised his arms up and Tim felt his heart drop into his shoes. “He’s gonna jump…”

Gordon registered the words a brief second too late.

Jason cursed and Damian allowed himself to scream as Dick fell off the roof out of the light and into the darkness below.

Gordon yelled at one of his cops to stay with the kids before sprinting off in the direction the kid was going to land like it would help anything.

Tim turned away and threw his arms around Jason’s waist as he sobbed. Damian did not even try to stay up on his feet, sinking onto the soaked street. His gaze was fixed on the spot where Dick had been just a moment ago, his mind not comprehending exactly what just happened. Jason subconsciously clung to Tim, pulling Tim gently down to the ground as his own legs gave out. His eyes were fixed on the darkness below and he began to mouth a silent prayer, ‘God, please catch him. Please, please, please, please, catch him. I can’t… I can’t…’

He couldn’t finish. His grip on Tim tightened as sobs broke free.

Bruce had been climbing up the building with his grapple gun. It took longer than it looked and required all his concentration just to not slip and fall. He was almost to the top, maybe another two hundred feet when it happened.

He had the impression to look up. At first, he ignored it. He was a little busy flying through the air, defying gravity. His gaze needed to remain on the ledge he had attached himself to, not the end goal.

He had just pulled himself up to the next level of the ledge, perhaps only a couple of hundred feet below where Joker and Dick were, and was getting ready to fire again when he heard Damian scream. 

He quickly turned to look down where he had left the three boys. Joker thought they were dead, there was no way he knew he had failed at this point and was trying to grab them again. But no, they were just… sitting on the ground. Tim looked like he was crying and Jason and Damian were looking up--

A silent blue blur whistled by Batman and dropped towards the ground. A part of his brain registered, “Dick” but he was already diving off the building right after the boy.

It takes around ten seconds to fall one thousand feet, and Bruce wasn’t even falling that distance, but it seemed like a lot longer. It took another one hundred feet to catch up with Dick and another hundred to actually grab the kid. He pulled the boy into his chest and fired off a grapple to one of the buildings across the street. The landing was not soft, or kind. Batman took the brunt of the force but nothing could stop him tumbling and Dick rolled right with him across the roof. Actually, Dick rolled farther and only stopped when he hit an air conditioner unit.

Dick wasn’t moving.

Bruce tried not to panic as he pushed himself to his feet. Or at least tried to, but his legs felt like leg so it was more of a desperate shuffle to Dick’s still form and Bruce tore off his glove and reached out a trembling hand to turn the boy onto his back and feel a pulse trying not to think about bullet holes or glassy eyes or--

A broken sob and tears streaking down his cheeks was a sad sight but all Bruce could focus on was the rise and fall of Dick’s chest and the pulse he could feel through his fingers and Dick’s neck.

Batman let out the pent of relief in a soft sigh. “Dick, are you injured?”

Sobs. Just… broken sobs. Batman began to check for broken bones or anything that might be a cause for concern--

--only for Dick to shove his hands away quite forcefully.

“Dick, I need to check for--”

Dick shook his head, the sobs racking his body. He curled up in a little ball and shook his head, words coming out in stammers.“You- me- why- I- they- you- why- them-”

“Shh…” Batman reached out and gently brushed his fingers through the boy's hair, “You’re alright…”

Dick shook his head fiercely, jerking away.

“Dick--” Batman went to comfort again only for Dick to snap his head up. His eyes were full of tears and fear and… and…

Dick looked broken. Like someone had shattered every little piece of his soul and then crushed it into dust beneath their feet. That bright little light that had twinkled in desperate times and a horrid living situation was just… gone.

“Oh, Dick… ” Bruce went to reach out again.

Dick yanked back, the shattered windows that were his eyes growing hard and cold. “You should have let me fall. ”

Well, if that wasn’t a shot to Bruce’s heart. “Dick--”

“They’re--” Dick choked out, “they’re all gone…”

“Dick--”

Dick stood up, the sobs turning into screams, “WHERE WERE YOU?” Agony and anger dripped off the boy, making Bruce freeze to the spot.

Bruce couldn’t speak, couldn’t comfort, couldn’t assure, all he could see was a broken little boy who lost his whole world in the matter of a night.

“WHY ME?” Dick screamed, finally finding his voice. He dropped back to his knees, the screams turning back into broken whispers. “Why did you save me… but not them?”

Batman took the helm, voice level, “Nightwing, they’re fi--”

“YOU DON’T GET TO CALL ME THAT!”

Bruce couldn’t breathe.

Dick’s gaze was piercing and his words hurt more than a knife to the stomach. “They’re dead. Because of you.”

And there was nothing Batman could say to that.

Dick’s strength finally seemed spent as he dissolved back into sobs. He laid on the roof and curled in on himself, the rain mixing with his tears.

Batman waited. He watched the sobbing boy for what felt like hours. He moved slowly forward until he was at the boy’s side. Batman knelt down, waited to see if the boy would move away, then gently scooped him up into his arms. The boy did not fight, just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

Batman did not say a word as he carried the boy to the roof access point, down the six flights of stairs, out the front door, coming to a stop just outside to take in the scene before him.

The cops had all but invaded Wayne Tower by this point. Harley Quinn and her friends were being dragged into squad cars, neatly cuffed and in Harley’s case, gagged. Joker had vanished somewhere, and Batman had no doubt he would see him very soon-

-whether Joker was planning on it or not.

The Birds were sitting together in the very back, away from the prying eyes of the spectators and away from their previous captors. The ambulance had arrived on the scene and a doctor was getting a proper look at their various injuries. 

Batman needed to get the boy over to them. Although his sobs had grown softer, he was shivering from the cold rain and his forehead was hot to the touch. Fever, no doubt about it.

Gordon spotted him, despite the shadows. The worry and concern on his face immediately cleared when he saw the lump in the vigilante's arms. He turned away and yelled something that was lost in the noise to one of his officers.

Batman briskly walked across the street, straight at Gordon.

“Is he alright?” Gordon asked, looking down at the crying boy.

To Gordon’s complete surprise, Batman did not respond. He gently transferred Dick from his arms to the Commissioners. “Batman?”

Batman stared down at Dick. Then he looked at Gordon--no, past Gordon and into the mess of emergency vehicles and personnel. He did not answer the question but finally spoke. It might have been Gordon’s imagination but he thought the voice was raspier than usual. “Take care of them, Jim.”

Gordon looked down at the shivering boy, feeling a bit confused. He turned slightly to see what he already assumed Batman had been staring at; the other three boys. None of them seemed to notice what was going on at the moment. “Wouldn’t you like to--?” Gordon turned back to the Bat and only found empty air.

He really needed to learn to stop doing that.

Dick felt someone carrying him. This person wasn’t Batman, as they actually had clothes that were not cold, smooth, metal. It was plastic though, so most likely a raincoat of some kind. Said coat was also cold and wet, but Dick’s clothes were already soaked through he found that it did not matter much.

“Dick!” someone yelled from somewhere and Dick felt no desire to respond. He just wanted to fall asleep and pray that the entire night was nothing more than a bad dream.

“Easy, son,” someone said, “He’s in a bit of shock.”

“What’s wrong with him?” someone else asked. “Is he going to be okay? What did the clown do to him?”

“Calm down, Tim, and let Leslie look him over.”

Dick’s brain came to a screeching halt.

The next thing he processed was laying on some kind of cot and a woman’s voice listing off medical terms and words he did not understand. She kept asking if he could hear her or open his eyes but Dick did not care.

“Come on, Dixie Stick, open your eyes!” a familiar voice demanded.

Dick obliged. He blinked several times to clear his vision. He first registered the woman staring down at him with a kind smile. “Hello there, Dick. Can you tell me if you are feeling any physical pain anywhere?”

Dick thought for a moment. He had a few bruises from being tossed and turned about in the back of a truck with no seatbelts, but nothing too serious. He slowly shook his head--

--which gave him a peripheral glance of a very familiar red hoodie sitting on a medical stretcher.

The woman now forgotten, Dick jerked his head to the side to stare at Jason.

He was being treated by another EMT, who at that moment was examining and feeling Jason’s right hand. Jason’s left hand was holding an oxygen mask, which Jason breathed out of. He removed it long enough to smirk at Dick. “Hey.” And then he went back to breathing.

Dick blinked. Was he… was he hallucinating? Maybe he hit his head on something on the way down or maybe… maybe he was dead? Maybe Batman had caught him but hadn’t swung them to safety in time and both of them had died but hadn’t noticed? 

“I’m fine, honest.”

Dick snapped his head the other way to find Tim standing up while a different doctor checked over his vitals and such. Tim did as he was instructed, but continued to speak. “My burns were treated hours ago and they are not that bad. And I have not suffered another injury since. I am fine.”

“All the same,” the man replied, “I’d like to have another look at those burns.”

As if the hallucination wasn’t bad enough, directly behind Tim, Damian was laying on another gurney. He was sitting up, so Dick could see the angry expression on his face. It looked like he was getting a blood transfusion and someone was wrapping bandages around one of his legs. He looked annoyed at everyone around him but did not say a word of protest.

“--ayson? Dick Grayson?”

Dick snapped his gaze back to the woman. She had a hand over his chest and looked worried, “I need you to breathe with me, okay? In… Out… In, 2, 3, 4, out, 2, 3, 4, in, 2, 3, 4, out, 2, 3, 4…”

Why was she counting? And why was Dick having trouble breathing with her?

“--he’s having a panic attack--”

“--Dick, I need you to slow down--”

“--we need him to calm down--”

“--Dick, slow down, you’re alright--”

“--can you hear me?--”

“Can I help?”

Dick’s mind latched onto that voice. “T-- T-- T--”

There was more sound and some movement but Dick did not process it. His chest was starting to hurt and all he could see was the back of his eyelids, squeezed tightly shut.

Someone grabbed his hand and began to rub circles on his palm. A very familiar voice began to recite a very familiar routine, back from scary nightmares at who knows o’clock with a very scared child who could never calm down. “Breathe with me, Dick… in for two, now hold--”

Dick struggled to hold the air in. It escaped through his teeth and Dick felt tears falling down his cheeks again.

“In for two, hold-- ”

This one was better, but only by a little.

“Good. In for two, hold--”

Sputters and Dick opened his eyes to find Tim smiling down at him.

“In for two, hold.”

Dick held.

“3, 2, 1, out…” Tim tightened his grip on Dick’s hand and continued to talk through the breathing until Dick felt like he could breathe. Even after, Tim continued until one of the Doctor’s told him it was okay to stop.

Tim went to pull away, but Dick refused to let go, eyes locked on his little brother. The one that was supposed to be blown up. “Timmy?”

Tim smiled.

“Grayson, don’t scare us like that!” Damian called from a few feet away. 

“Baby bird?” Dick rasped.

“Don’t call me that, Grayson.” Damian huffed but it did not sound as angry. More… amused.

Dick looked at Jason. He smirked and gave a sloppy salute. “Hey, Big Bird.”

Dick felt a lump rise up in his throat. Jason hadn’t called him that in at least two years. He had said the two of them had grown out of playful nicknames ("But what about Blue Jay?"“Our names on the streets are codenames, not nicknames. There’s a difference.”) He opened his mouth to speak, once, twice, then finally managed to croak, “Little Wing?”

Jason smiled a real smile. “Glad you’re not street paste.”

That… could have been put a little more tactfully but it was Jason. What did he expect?

“You’re alive…” Dick croaked as he looked all around at his three little brothers. “Thank Gotham, you’re alive!”

“Yeah...” Jason nodded slowly. “Bats managed to get there in the nick of time… actually,” Jason amended as he jerked his chin at Tim, “I’d be dead if not for that kid.”

Tim blushed, “It was nothing.”

Dick felt tears start to form in his eyes again and he tried to sit up to hug Tim and maybe Jason and definitely Damian--

Only for the woman that had been checking his vitals to physically stop him and push him back down. “We have to check you over, Dick, and then we’re taking all of you to the hospital. Okay?”

“But--”

“No buts, Mr. Grayson,” the woman shook her head, “You have been awake all night and just gone through a traumatizing experience. All of you need rest and recovery.” Her gaze softened, “I assure you, all of them will be fine but you need to sleep.”

Now that she mentioned it, Dick felt… tired.

And not the bad kind of tired. But still… he looked over at his alive brothers, the fear that this was a dream starting to rise up. 

The woman patted his arm to get his attention. “Don’t you worry, son. They’ll be right there when you wake up.”

“I…” Dick chewed down on his bottom lip. “Promise?”

“Yes, dear boy,” she smiled again, warm and kind. “I promise.”

Dick swallowed down the fear and forced a smile in return, “Thank you, Miss… uh.” Dick looked for a name tag and was a bit surprised to not find one. Actually, this woman did not look like the rest of the EMTs. She was wearing a white doctor coat and street clothes, not the bright blue button-ups of the others.

“Thompkins,” the woman supplied, “Leslie Tompkins.”

That name sounded familiar. It took a moment to place it, “You know Jason, right?”

“Yes,” Miss Thompkins nodded. “I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances but--” she pursed her lips. “That’s enough talking. You need sleep, alright?”

Dick nodded, still a little reluctant but a bit more willing. “I’ll hold you to your promise.”

“I expect you to. Now sleep, Richard.”

Casefile: The Birds

Subjects:
REDACTED AKA “Nightwing”
REDACTED AKA “Jay Bird"
REDACTED AKA “Crow”
REDACTED AKA “Robin”

Status: Closed

Opened: June 19th 20XX

Closed: November 1st 20XX

Reports:
June 19th- The Wharf
June 27th- (Robin) Jefferson and Phelps Alleyway
July 13th- Two-Face Bank Robbery
July 30th- Vreeland Charity Ball
August 16th- (Jay Bird and Robin) Gotham Public Zoo
August 21st- Riddler, Gotham Park
August 30th- (Civilian Interaction) Gotham Street Fair
September 5th- (Jay Bird) Batmobile Vandalism
September 12th- (Nightwing and Robin) Freeze Caper
September 17th- (Crow) Gotham Rooftop
September 26th- (Nightwing) Gotham Rooftop, 41st and Main
October 10th- Catwoman Robbery
October 31st-
→open report←
06:24 am- Joker is holding all four of the Birds at an unknown location. No one knows why. Not even me.
08: 02 am-Attempted to call in Superman for the favor he owes me. L.L. informed me he is off-planet and will not be back for at least two days. Even if I asked for him to come back now, he would not be here for over 24 hours.
Spoke to Jon. K and Jor. K. about their own abduction a year ago for insight into how The Birds may be feeling now.
10:23 am-False sighting of Joker at Gotham Bridge. No new leads.
01:46 pm-It has been 12 hours since Crow called. No new leads.
05:17 pm-I haven’t slept in over thirty-six hours. It’s the first time since Batman first hit the streets that Agent A hasn’t ordered me home for sleep. Not that I ever listen.
10:02 pm-Nothing has changed. Joker is going to do whatever he is planning in two hours. …I don’t know what to do.
November 1st, 02:53 am- Joker kidnapped The Birds because he believed them connected to Batman.
They are all alive and safe.
Gotham Police has taken custody of them and is in the process of arresting REDACTED for child neglect. REDACTED will be taken into police custody upon release from the hospital.
Capture of the Joker made a top priority.
Contact with The Birds to be severed immediately.
→end report←  

Known affiliates: RESTRICTED ACCESS

Attached Evidence:
N/A

Connected Files and Reports:
RESTRICTED ACCESS

Chapter Text

Alfred was getting a little concerned about his charge. And for once, it had nothing to do with Bruce’s nightly crusades against crime. At least, not directly.

It had been a few days since the young Birds had been recovered. When Bruce had returned that night he had told Alfred in the most serious tone, “Never again."

He hadn’t known what that meant. At least, he hadn’t until the news reported that Batman had captured the Joker again- although this time there had been a lot more blood and a lot less laughter from the clown.

The news had also gotten wind of Joker’s kidnapping spree, but the names of the abductees were withheld from all reports since they were all minors. As such, no one had suspected anything when the following morning a completely different headline had read, “Foster Parent Arrested for Suspected Negligence of Four Children”.

Bruce had read the report seven times before he had finally thrown the paper in the fire in pure anger. The paper had stated that “recent events have brought this nightmare of a life into police eyes” and Alfred shuddered to think that being kidnapped by the Joker could actually bring about some good.

When he had tried to bring them up, Bruce had steered the conversation in the opposite direction, or had just gotten up and left the room. Other than the Joker incident, he hadn’t gone out of the house and had spent most of his time beating up punching bags in the Cave.

Most worrying of all, he had skipped patrol.

Twice.

It was Wednesday morning when the landline rang. Alfred practically threw his feather duster aside and scooped the old phone up. “Hello?”

“Agent A?” a soft voice whispered.

Alfred almost smiled, “Hello, Mr. Drake. I was wondering if we’d be hearing from you.”

Tim didn’t say anything for a moment. “I… I know I shouldn’t have called but… I just overheard the foster worker talking to Commissioner Gordon and-” his voice cut off and Alfred heard footsteps and laughter in the background that grew then faded. “ Sorry,” Tim mumbled, “I’m not supposed to be out of the hospital room yet.”

The old butler frowned, “Now, Mr. Drake, couldn’t you have just asked for a phone?”

“Who would I be calling?” Tim asked. “I don’t have any family left and it’s not like I have friends. If I said I wanted to talk to Bruce Wayne, they’d laugh me off.” Tim sighed. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Very well, Mr. Drake. How may I be of service?”

Tim took a deep breath, “Foster care is splitting us up.”

It came as little surprise, but Alfred still felt a stab of sympathy. “Oh, Timothy, I am so sorry.”

“Which is why… I’m calling you. I was hoping Mr. Wayne might be able to find someone willing to take three boys in.”

Alfred nodded, “I’m sure Master Wayne would be-” he suddenly cut off as the sentence clicked, “I beg your pardon did you say three? Did something happen to one of your brothers?”

“No! No, no, nothing like that.” Tim laughed softly, “It’s just… Dick, Jason, and Damian need one another. Damian can’t be alone, Jason needs some moral compass, and Dick… well, he’s just needed there.” There was a pause and Alfred suspected Tim was composing himself. “Besides, three boys between the ages of twelve and eight is a lot for someone to take in. If it was four, the chances of finding a willing participant lessen even more. I’ll be fine on my own”

Alfred felt his heart crack at the statement. “I will inform Master Wayne of your request. Rest assured, Mr. Drake, he’ll find something.”

“Thank you…. For everything .” The line remained quiet for a few more seconds before going dead. Timothy had said all he needed.

Alfred hung up, his mind, and heart racing. He hurried down into the cave and found Bruce pounding at his punching bag. 

Where he had been for the past four hours.

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce jabbed the bag a few more times before pausing, his expression void of any emotion.

“I just received a call from Mr. Drake.”

A flash of fear flared across the man’s face and Bruce was already headed to the Batsuit when Alfred called out quickly, “He would like Bruce Wayne’s help. Not Batman’s.”

The fear died off a little and Bruce’s shoulders relaxed. “What does he need?”

“Timothy has just discovered that the four boys are going to be split up. He was asking assistance in finding a place willing to take all of them in.” Alfred felt a little guilty at the lie, but only a little. What the young Timothy didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Bruce scrunched up his face in a thoughtful expression. “It would have to be outside of Gotham, most likely.”

Alfred hesitated a moment. “I will leave that decision to you, sir.”

“Mmh…” Bruce ignored the punching bag for the first time in the last several days and made a beeline to the computer. Within the hour, he had begun tracking down a suitable home for the Birds, cross-referencing with FBI files and the Justice Leagues’ own watchlist. He was still there at dinner time. He was still there past nine. And past midnight Alfred couldn’t remember a day that Bruce had missed patrol-

-now he could remember three.

On the bright side, at least Master Bruce wasn’t trashing more punching bags. They were rather a pain to clean up after.

Bruce re-read the file for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Kyle and Katie Jones. Aged 38 and 36. Long-time foster parents, no criminal records, no government agency involvement, heck, the only ‘records’ were their birth and marriage certificates, along with their driver’s licenses. The couple were well off and had tried, and failed, to have any children. The foster system had worked out well for them, with them adopting one baby girl out of the mix. The girl, Jessica, was now seven years old. They did appear willing to take more kids in if their adoption requests from the past two years were any indication (all three of them had fallen through for one reason or another).

They were just one of four families Bruce had narrowed his search down to in the past two days. The newspaper article that morning had announced the Bird’s release from the hospital later that afternoon. He had no doubt the boys would be separated a short time after that, which meant he needed to start calling and asking.

There was just one problem. Bruce really didn’t want to pick up the phone.

He told himself it was nerves. If all four of the candidates refused, then he’d have to start all over. And he didn’t have that kind of time.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the Jones lived on the other side of the country. Or that Matthew Garfield lived in London. Or that Megan Schupp lived in Canada. Or the Janssens in the southwest United States.

And it had nothing to do with the fact that he wasn’t going to see them again.

Definitely not the reason.

Bruce pinched his nose, feeling very annoyed with himself. He’d put their lives in danger for crying out loud! If anything, he should be sending the Birds as far away from him as possible. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting them.

That was the irony of the situation, he supposed. He saved them only to lose them.

‘They aren’t yours!’ He scolded himself. ‘This is for the best.’

And still, Bruce continued to stare at the phone.

Alfred found him like that two hours later when he brought down lunch. “Having second thoughts, Master Bruce?”

“No, Alfred. Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out how to phrase what I want to say.” Bruce smiled. It was a rather small one that was void of any real happiness.

Alfred placed the tray of sandwiches in front of his charge. “Really? It takes all morning to compose a draft for a five-minute conversation?”

Bruce glared at him. ‘Don’t question me ’, it seemed to say and Alfred decided to humor him. “Very well, sir. What were you thinking of saying?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps you could say, ‘Hello, I’m Bruce Wayne. I have four boys here from Gotham who needs a good home and I am more than willing to pay for their expenses if you can take care of them.'”

Bruce’s glare narrowed slightly. “That sounds like I’m selling them.”

“Then how about, ‘Wanted: good home for four Gotham boys. You seem like a good fit.'”

“Again, Alfred. Not selling them.”

“What would you say then?”

“For one,” Bruce stated, “I’d leave out my name. Let them think I’m a foster worker or government official.”

“Anything else, sir?”

Bruce hesitated, his words slow and deliberate. “I’d tell them about how they have been living for the last several years, alone and deprived of any proper care. I’d tell them about their loyalty to one another and how once you join the family, they will never abandon you. I’d talk about Dick’s big heart and his fun-loving personality, about how much he will make them smile and laugh. I’d tell them about Jason’s stubbornness and adventure streak and how both of them will drive you up the walls, but that you’ll grow to endear both traits. I’d tell them about Tim’s intellect, how far it is going to take him, and about his shy personality that makes you instantly care about him. I’d tell them about Damian’s strength and determination to keep going, even when things go wrong, and about his need for family. I’d tell them…” Bruce trailed off for a moment before finishing in a whisper, “they’ll never find better boys to call their own.”

Alfred smiled. “Then that’s what you say, Master Bruce.”

“I… I suppose you’re right, Alfred.” Bruce looked at the phone for another moment before picking it up with a shaking hand. Before he could even start dialing, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Alfred was looking down at him, unshed tears in his eyes. “Sir… has it ever occurred to you that these boys might already have a willing foster parent?”

“....I can’t .”

“And why on earth not?”

“You saw what Joker did to them just because they met Batman on the streets a few times. Imagine the kind of danger they could get in if a billionaire took them in full time.” Bruce chuckled. It was empty, more harsh than humorous, “Especially when said billionaire is also said Bat.”

Alfred gently squeezed Bruce’s shoulders. He let out a heavy sigh and decided that decorum and tact could go out the moment. At least for the moment. “Master Bruce, I have cared for you and watched you grow from an infant to the man you are today and there is one thing I have learned. You care deeply about those around you. So much so that in efforts to keep them safe, you often push them away.” He leaned over and pushed a few buttons on the keyboard, pulling up a picture of the Birds during one of their late-night outings. Their faces were hidden and the figures were blurry and distant, but there was no mistaking them. “Has it ever occurred to you that by pushing them away, you hurt them, and yourself, more than it would if you kept them close?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Alfred patted him on the shoulders, “Think about it, Master Bruce. The decision is yours.” Then he left without another word.

Gordon was waiting with a squad car when the four boys were released from the hospital. He had a smile on his face and asked each of them how their recovery was coming along. He offered to use the siren on the ride back to the station and made a joke about them sitting in the back.

Dick gave half-hearted responses and Jason grunted. Tim was silent, more so than usual and Damian just glared.

Gordon sighed softly. Couldn’t really blame them, he supposed. “Alright, let’s get moving. Foster care is waiting for you at the station.”

Dick was the first to climb in the vehicle, followed closely behind by Damian, who limped from his leg injury but had refused crutches (and by “refused” Dick meant the kid had thrown them across the room). Jason refused to get in the back of the car, opting for the shotgun position. Tim climbed in last, shutting the door behind him.

The ride wasn’t long, maybe fifteen minutes, but it was filled with silence. Gordon made a comment or two but didn’t push it. He glanced in the mirror and to his right, watching carefully for… well, anything.

Jason’s breath was light, but it still fogged the glass. The last hour had been a painful one for Jason. The Birds had said their goodbyes to one another before they had been released from the hospital since they hadn’t been sure when they’d be separated. He hadn’t said much to anyone. A request for Dick to stay away from tall structures, a ruffle of Damian’s hair (‘Stay outta trouble, kiddo.’), and another thank you to Tim for finding him in that safe. That had been it for Jason. He’d never cared for goodbyes. Or hellos.

He watched the alleys and the litter piles swoosh by, his mind running through his personal plan for the future. By his guess, he’d be in a group home of some sort within the next week. He planned to stay for a day or two before taking off. No way was he sticking around in some juvie hall or home for troubled boys. He’d always been better off on the streets anyway. Within a few years, he’d probably join a gang or find his place in the homeless community. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t a dream life, but it was a plan. 

The only plan he’d ever have after this.

Behind him, Tim was sitting in a similar position. Head pressed against the glass, staring out the window. Unlike his older brother, however, his eyes were fixed on the sky. The sun was out, for once in Gotham. He took it as a good sign that hope was not lost… at least, for the others.

Mr. Wayne had found a home for them, or at least he hoped he had. A few days wasn’t a lot of time and although it might not be immediately, Dick, Jason, and Damian would find one another again. Tim would be fine. He had told them as much earlier in the hospital, though not in so many words. He had simply hugged all three of them and repeated to each, “Don’t worry about me.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Tim was young. Almost ten and a half, now. The age was pushing it a little, but someone might not mind having him around. He would be fine in school and he was agreeable enough that most people would leave him be. He’d attend a school of some sort, graduate high school, get a job, and build a simple life. The Drakes had been well off and there was enough money left to him in his father’s will for him to attend college when he was of age. If he worked hard enough, he would be well enough off.

And maybe one day, Tim would see what happened to the other Birds. He’d track them down, call them and leave a message, or show up on their doorstep and surprise them. He’d smile and tell them how he’d been since they saw one another, making sure to stress the good moments. He’d been fine, he was fine. He is fine.

“Fine” wasn’t the same as being happy, but it would have to do.

Damian was the only one without a window. Normally, he would have protested and demanded a window seat. Today, he was okay with it. The middle of the car was a good place to see Jason and Tim. He didn’t need to see Dick, because he was leaning against the boy, holding his hand tight.

Damian had been unable to say goodbye at the hospital. He had tried to say it in many ways; verbally, physically, heck, he had even tried to write it down, but the words wouldn’t come. Nothing came out of his mouth, not a single word. He hadn’t been able to understand why at first. Yes, he cared about his “brothers” and yes, he was sad to see them go. Maybe his brain was in denial about the situation or maybe he thought it was some bad dream.

It wasn’t a dream. Damian had pinched, and in one case slapped, himself enough times to know that. No, it wasn’t denial. It was something worse. Something weaker.

It was a want. Damian didn’t want to say goodbye. After all this time, after all of his running and his preparation for being alone again- his belief that he would be alone again- it suddenly slammed into his brain. These were the only people in his life he could remember not wanting to lose. They were the only people he could lose. So Damian clung to Dick and prayed he’d wake up from the nightmare. He refused to think about the future or what could happen to him.

Any life without his brothers was too painful to imagine.

Dick leaned against Damian, his arm slung around the boy, and held him close. Of all of them, Dick had been the only one to cry during their private conversation at the hospital. He had taken the longest, stressing the wonderful times they’d had together and how much he’d miss them. Dick promised this wasn’t permanent, that they’d see one another again, then hugged them all tightly, ignoring any cry of protest.

Unbeknownst to them, Dick had already talked to one of the foster workers and had requested being sent back to Haley’s circus. Although it wasn’t official on paperwork or anything, the worker had agreed to look into the option and had seemed enthusiastic about it (nothing could be worse than Gotham, and getting him away from Joker seemed like a good enough excuse to stretch the rules a little).

His plan was simple enough on paper. Stay with the circus until he was at least eighteen. Get the necessary paperwork in order and find all of his brothers before making their family “official”. It would take a lot of time, effort, and money, but Dick was willing to do it. He wouldn’t be able to see any of them for at least six years, although Dick suspected it would be closer to eight, maybe even ten. Jason would be a legal adult by then, maybe even Tim and Damian. A lot could change in that amount of time, but Dick promised himself he’d try. He had to try. He’d already lost his first family, he wasn’t going to lose his second one without a fight.

And he was ready to fight.

Gordon pulled to a stop in front of the station and got out of the car. “Come on, boys. There’s some hot chocolate inside if you’d like.”

None of them said anything as they got out of the car and headed for the entrance. The youngest boy, Damian, if Gordon was remembering correctly, had been clutching the eldest, Dick, in the car. He didn’t release his hold on him as the two carefully walked up the steps and into the station. The other two remained distant from the others and kept their eyes down.

The foster worker Gordon had met earlier in the week, Miss Jenaveve, was just getting off the phone when they walked in. Her smile was genuine and her voice was gentle, “Hello, boys. How about you go sit together over there while I talk to the Commissioner? We have some details we need to wrap up.”

Gordon frowned. As far as he knew everything was done. Richard was going to Haley’s circus, Jason was being placed in a boy’s home in Bludhaven, Tim was being moved to Central City, and Damian was flying to some small town in the Southwest. Perhaps he had missed something or signed off on the wrong thing. It had been a long week.

The boys were obedient and sat down in the hard plastic chairs in the reception area. Jenaveve motioned for Gordon to follow her into his office.

She shut the door behind him and he positioned himself behind the desk, brow furrowed. “I thought everything was in order. Is something wrong?”

Jenaveve shrugged. “Depends on your definition of ‘wrong’. What do you know about Bruce Wayne?”

Gordon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden subject, “I know quite a bit. Why do you ask?”

“I just got off the phone with him,” Jenaveve explained. “We’ve been talking for the past hour and a half about the boys.”

“What about them?”

“Mr. Wayne would like to take them in as his wards. At least for now.”

Gordon didn’t know what to say to that. “All of them?” 

Jenaveve nodded.

“Mmh…” Gordon pressed his fingertips to his mouth. “What do you think?”

“It will take some change of paperwork and Mr. Wayne will have to prove he can provide for the boys, but other than that…” her voice trailed off. “What do you think?”

Gordon thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not. Bruce is an old friend of mine. I’ve known him since he was a boy. He’s had a lot of heartache in his life and while his business does well, I’ve never been sure if he enjoyed it.”

“Commissioner, would Mr. Wayne be the type of man to take in the boys just for good press? Or for more… illegal purposes” Jenaveve asked.

Gordon quickly shook his head.“No, Bruce isn’t like that. He’s much kinder than the tabloids make him out to be. He lost his parents when he was young, so he knows what these boys have been through. It isn’t like their story has been kept a secret from the press. It could be a lot of things acting out right now. Sympathy, charity, a few other emotions.”

“So you think it’s a good idea?”

“Yes, I suppose I do. I’ve seen those boys interact with one another first hand. They don’t want to be separated, which is the main reason, I suspect, they never came forward with their negligence from Roman. This solves that problem and makes it so they won’t have to leave Gotham. Moving can be hard on kids.”

“What about the Joker?” Jenaveve demanded, “He may be in Arkham right now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be there tomorrow.”

Gordon nodded, “If I told you that Joker doesn’t know who they are, would you believe me?”

“No.”

“Well, Joker doesn’t know who they are.”

Jenaveve blinked several times, the skepticism on her face clear and unwavering.

Gordon leaned forward and put his hands on his desk, “Let me explain: the boys have code names they use with one another on the streets. Sort of like a game of spies, if you will. Batman has told me that he had a few encounters with them over the past few months. Joker noticed, apparently, but he only heard, and cared about, the codenames.”

“So what? He never saw their faces?”

“Not clearly, anyway. They were wearing hoods that covered up or at least shadowed most of their features. Joker never cared about who they were under the hood, just as he never really cares to unmask Batman. He has no interest in it.” Gordon shrugged, “It appeals to his sense of… “the game”, as he calls it.”

“So…” Jenaveve, “you’re trying to tell me that Joker isn’t going to come after these boys because he doesn’t care about them as actual people?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Gordon leaned back in his chair. “Anything involving Joker is a strange case. This one is no exception.”

“What are the code names?”

Gordon shrugged, “Batman wouldn’t tell me, which was probably for the best. If I don’t know them, the press doesn’t know them, which means Joker doesn’t connect the two names together.”

“I suppose that makes sense…” Jenaveve replied slowly. “I still don’t like it though.”

“Mr. Wayne lives in one of the safest houses in Gotham. It’s outside of town, it has several safe rooms built into it, and Bruce knows how to hold his own, along with his butler. I’m sure Bruce will have safety measures in place to keep the boys safe.”

Jenaveve held up her clipboard, “I’ll need to do a background check and clear him for the Foster system-”

“Which you have nothing to fear from. He’ll pass, I guarantee it.”

“-and check with my superiors. But other than that… I don’t see why not.”

Gordon smiled, “I’ll have Mr. Wayne come pick up the boys. We won’t tell them the news yet, not until it’s official, but I’m sure they can stay the night there for the time being.”

“Very well, Commissioner.” Jenaveve stood to her feet and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m trusting you on this.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, Miss Jenaveve.”