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Chapter Text

Bruce's chest slowly rose and fell with each steady breath. He was still in bed, watching the orange glow spread out across the ceiling and down the wall as the day proceeded the dawn. He probably had a few minutes before Alfred came knocking at his door to wake him as he’d done for the last week. He was concerned, though he was yet to voice his worries, and understandably so.

Ever since Bruce had woken up in the past, gasping for breath and clutching his chest, he had spent his days sat on the ground at Jason's grave. He wouldn’t eat unless Alfred brought him food, he wouldn’t speak unless Alfred asked, and he hadn’t even approached the cave, let alone touch the Bat suit.

He’d had the misfortune to be brought back to the aftermath of Jason's death. It had been a couple months after the explosion. Dick was in Bludhaven, making a point not to speak to Bruce under any circumstances, and, while Alfred remained, he was grieving himself. It was all a mess and Bruce couldn’t help but remember his own faults the first time. He’d pushed his only other child away and pushed himself until it took Timothy, a child, to tell him to get his act together. Even then, the damage had lasted long into the future and had created cracks in the very foundation of Bruce’s relationship with his children.

Bruce knew things would change and that Jason would return, but that didn’t make waking up to him gone any easier to bear. He didn’t know when his son would claw his way out of the grave. It wasn’t something an older Jason had cared to speak about, the mention of his death was enough to end all conversations.

With no date to go off from, Bruce stared at the headstone until Alfred came to drag him back inside Manor. Sometimes he talked to the open air, pretending Jason could hear him through the coffin’s walls and tightly packed dirt, other days he remained silent and just waited. It was a morbid kind of peace that he found there, comforted by the whistling wind and gentle breeze. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Jason sitting there with him.

-

There were forty-two unread messages on Dicks phone. Three were from his coworkers asking for his help on their cases, twelve were from his therapist asking him if he was coming back for another appointment after he’d run out of the last one. There were several from Bruce, almost seven months old which he had no intention of reading- there was nothing that man could say that would be worth Dicks time. Nineteen were shared between Clark and other JLA members, asking if he’d been able to contact Batman for the last week.

The final lone text was from Alfred; short and succinct.

Alfred:

Please come to the Manor, he is getting worse.

As much as Dick resented Bruce, he had been relieved when Alfred alerted him to a change for the better in the man’s state. He’d been terrified that his black suit and dress shoes would see another use that year. To hear that there had been such a sudden downwards turn, when Bruce had been gradually improving, was more than concerning. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Dick was scared. Scared enough to respond to Alfred message and more than scared enough to catch a train back to Gotham the next morning.

“Master Dick,” Alfred smiled at him when he opened the door, ushering the young man inside. He took his coat, taking no arguments from Dick when he’d insisted that he could do it himself, and pulled him into a quick but tight hug “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, dear boy.”

Dick doesn’t say that he’d missed him too, even though he wanted to, and walked with Alfred further into the Manor “Where is he?” He’d returned for Bruce’s benefit, but that didn’t mean he was prepared to talk to the man.

“Ah.” Alfred sighed and wavered in his stride “I am afraid that’s quite the issue I contacted you about.”

“Is he in the cave?”

“No, rather the opposite. He hasn’t worn the suit for over a week now, neither has he reached out to those teammates of his for someone to take on the role.” He wiped at the side of his face in pure exhaustion, looking painfully older in that moment “Every morning, Master Bruce has refused to be anywhere but Master Jason's grave.”

An invisible hand grasped Dicks lungs tight and his breath released in a strangled wheeze. Alfred sent him a pitying glance, patting him on the back to console him.

“I have tried to bring him back inside, Miss Kyle visited yesterday and tried as well, but we've had no luck. He leaves shortly after dawn and will only come back inside in the early hours of the next day.”

“What makes you think I’ll be able to do it then?”

“Young Master, I think you underestimate how much a word from you will mean to him.” Alfred looked away, a faraway look in his eyes “I had tried my best with him when he was a child, but he is a stubborn creature. Since you were as small as nine years old, one request from you would break through his worst moods. I know you do not consider him your father, Master Dick, but he does view you as his son.”

Dick sighed “I’ll try Alfie but I can’t promise anything.”

“Very well, Master Dick.” The old man softly smiled and continued to walk to the kitchen “It is almost lunchtime. After you’ve eaten, I’ll give you a wrapped meal to take out to Bruce. He has been uninterested in eating unless I bring the food to him.”

-

Picnic basket in hand, Dick wandered across the dewy grass to the graveyard. He could feel his socks growing wet through his shoes from the morning rain and how the bottom of his jeans were damp, brushing against his skin. It was a miserable day, as it often was in Gotham, and the sky was smothered with thick grey clouds. A storm was coming soon, or so the weathermen claimed.

The iron gate to the private family plots creaked agonisingly as Dick pushed it open. The paint was peeling away and its latch was jammed, leaving the gate to swing shut behind him and bounce back with a rattle. Dick ignored it, sights set on the figure several rows in, hunched over on the ground. There were only two graves in the plot Bruce had reserved; Sheila Haywood and Jason Todd. Having spent months looking for his birth mother, right up until his death, it had seemed unfair to separate Jason from his last blood relative. Even if it meant not burying the boy in the Wayne family plot.

Dick set the basket down next to Bruce. The man didn’t give him any notice, staring at the ground between his body and Jason’s headstone. He wasn’t crying, nor was he angry, in fact he looked unnervingly peaceful. No wonder Alfred had asked Dick to come home.

“Hey.” He gently nudged Bruce’s leg with the toe of his shoe to get his attention.

“Hey chum.” Bruce hummed “How’s Bludhaven?”

“Uh,” Dick stammered, unprepared for Bruce to start a conversation. He’d been carrying the burden of filling the air for years, interpretating the ‘hms’ and ‘hmns’ as if it were his second language “It’s alright, I guess.”

“Are things going well at the precinct?”

“Bruce, what’s going on?” Dick couldn’t take it and shifted the focus away from himself “You’ve got Alfred worrying that you’re about to disappear and Clark blowing up my phone asking what’s going on. You were getting better, what changed?”

Bruce had the nerve to smile. He patted the earth next to him, gesturing for Dick to join him and reluctantly he did. An arm pulled Dick close and Bruce tucked his head under his chin “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the funeral. I should have called you; you had a right to know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Dick wasn’t going to get choked up, he refused.

“I didn’t want it to be real. If I told you that Jason was gone, then I’d have to hear that out loud and I couldn’t do it. That doesn’t make it okay, I know.” Bruce kissed the top of Dicks hair “I am sorry, chum.”

Dick took it all back; he wasn’t scared, he was terrified. The last time they’d spoked it had been raised voices and flying fists, now suddenly Bruce was emotionally competent?

“Why are you out here, Bruce?”

“I wasn’t there for him before.” He spoke in a low voice “I owe it to Jason to be here now.”

-

Unsurprisingly, Dick was unsuccessful in persuading Bruce to go back home that first day and by the time he’d awoken on the second he’d already left the house, back in the graveyard. Alfred had comforted Dick, thanking him for the effort, and handed him another packed lunch. When he’d arrived at his little brothers resting place again, he’d caught Bruce talking to the grave as if Jason was sat there with him. He’d trailed off as he heard Dick coming and neither of them mentioned what he’d seen.

Before he knew it, Dick had been staying in Wayne Manor for a full week.

He was stirred from a dreamless sleep on the seventh day by the harsh wind and rain crashing into the window of his room. Dick had rolled over and retreated further under the covers, trying to drift back to sleep, until he’d jolted up and thrown his bedding to the floor. In a flurry of movement, he pulled on a thick coat and bounded down the stairs, calling for Alfred to bring the car around to the front. As he’s suspected, Bruce had not been in his room, leaving only one other option.

Sure enough, they found Bruce sitting out in the storm and it had taken the last of Alfred patience and all of Dick’s strength to carry him back to the car. The man was drifting in and out of consciousness, dazed and unaware of what was happening around him. His forehead was scorching to the touch.

“Someone’s… got to…” Bruce mumbled, straining against Dick and Alfred's hold on him to turn and look back at Jason's grave “Dick…. Dickie, you have to…”

“It’s alright, Bruce, don’t worry about it.” Dick sighed and swallowed the words he desperately wanted to say instead.

“No, no Dickie, you have to stay… he can’t... he can’t be alone, Dickie.” He shook his head and stumbled again, catching his shoe on a rock, and almost sending Alfred and Dick down with him “I can’t leave my son, I can’t… someone’s got to stay.”

Alfred had driven past the church’s parking area and left the car on the grass so he wouldn’t have to lug an unbelievably heavy and large man further than he had to. The backseat doors were open, allowing him and Dick to tip Bruce inside, admittedly shoving him the rest of the way until they could wrestle a seatbelt over him.

“Dickie, you have…” Bruce scrunched up his eyes and breathed heavily.

Leaning forward past him, Alfred pulled a small wrapped umbrella and handed it to Dick.

“Alfie?”

“He will not rest unless he is certain someone remains, Master Dick.” He sighed wearily and glanced back at Bruce in concern “I would rather not have him jump from a moving vehicle to come back here. It will not be long, just wait until I have him settled in the house and I return.”

Dick deeply inhaled, tempted to glare at his once-parental figure, and took the umbrella “Fine, but if I get sick too, I’m going to kill him.” He grumbled and stepped back, opening the umbrella in one smooth move.

Alfred gave him a nod of thanks, slid into the driver’s seat, and drove away. Dick watched the car shrink into the distance, fading into the torrential rain, and titled his head back to the sky to groan loudly. If he hadn’t been in his mind 20’s he would have stomped his feet in a tantrum. Leave it to Bruce to force Dick into staying at his little brother’s grave just because he refused to go to therapy.

The storm beat at the umbrella mercilessly as Dick stumbled back to the plot and, without nearby shelter or walls, he resigned himself to stand out in the open slowly getting drenched by rain water. He half-wished he had taken up smoking, just to have something to use as a distraction from staring at the cold dead stone.

“Why do you keep bringing him out here?” Dick muttered bitterly. He could barely hear himself over the wind but decided, just for a moment, to pretend Jason was listening “It’s been months. The investigation closed before your funeral, he put away the files a few weeks ago, so what is it about this.”

He shakily sighed “I’m sorry, Jay, about the funeral. I would have been here if I’d… I didn’t even know you were gone until the morning after I got back and went through my voicemails.” Dick took a few steps forward until he was at the edge of where the earth had been upturned to bury the casket “I should have been there. Before, too.”

His face warmed and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes “God, I wish you’d just told us, Jay. We could have helped you find her or- or I could have gone with you, to that warehouse, I… I should have been with you.” Dick was clutching the handle of the umbrella to tightly that his knuckles turned paper white, shaking “I was supposed to be your older brother but I just fucked it all up. I can’t even say I didn’t have the time, because I did, I wasted it being stupid and resentful with Bruce.”

The tears flowed freely and his heartrate sped up as he finally spoke. The storm swelled and the ground thudded beneath his feet, almost matching his heart in pace “There were so many trips I was going to take you on; the other Titans agreed to you staying with us to train if you’d wanted, or my apartment, you could have lived with me for the holida-” He attempted to move closer to the stone but jolted as the earth concaved beneath his shoe “What the fuck?”

Dick crouched and pressed a hand into the mud. It dipped down under his touch and, having moved close enough to see it that time, the earth seemed to shift across the graves area. The ground was thudding beneath him, but not because of his panic (though he was panicking) and instead due to someone hitting against something solid. Something sturdy.

Like a coffin.

The umbrella was thrown to the side and Dick darted forward to scoop at the mud with his bare hands. It was disgusting and seeping into the sleeves of his coat, but he didn’t stop. He probably looked insane, knee deep in a grave and digging down. Superman looked at him as if he were. Dick was unsure when he’d called out for him but with the way his throat ached, he must have screamed for Clark at some point.

“Dick, what’s going on?” His hands hovered over the young man, debating whether to pull him away.

“The- There’s something down there, I swear, Clark, look!” Dick rambled. He was drenched, his hair stuck down into his face, with mud up to his elbows and not once did he stop digging.

Clark, horrified with the state of his honorary nephew, looked down. His sight carried past the remaining feet of dirt and thick wooden walls. Whatever it was he saw must have been bad because a second later he joined Dick to dig.

-

By the time Bruce woke up, the storm had passed. He was back in his bed and, as he attempted to sit up, terribly woozy. A damp small towel fell from his forehead and landed on his lap. He touched it; it was lukewarm and it must have been a while since it had been placed on him. The towel had done the job though, bringing his temperature down to almost-normal. Bruce shrugged off the blankets, took a moment to steady himself as the edge of his mattress, and stood.

The hallways were quiet. They had been for weeks and it took Bruce off guard every single time. He couldn’t turn the corners without expecting one of his children to come barreling into him. Stephanie on the run after messing with Tim, Cass with her feather-light footsteps that he could never hear coming, Duke with his nose stuck into a revision guide for his exams, or Damian, who barely came up to his waist even if he carried himself as though her were 6”4. His kids, every single one of them, were gone. Forever, or at least that version of them.

Nonetheless he’d been granted a second chance and, if the disturbed dust around Jason’s bedroom and the ajar door was anything to go by, it wouldn’t go wasted.

Bruce leaned heavily against the doorframe as he pushed the gap open further. Laying in his childhood bed was Jason, covered in bandages with an IV extending from the crook of his right arm to a saline bag strung up on the bedframe, alive. For better and for worse, he looked the same as the day Bruce had lost him. The man moved forward and sat down gently at the edge. He reached out to cup the side of Jason's face, his thumb brushing back his black curls, and bent forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

“Thank you.” Bruce shakily exhaled “Whatever you are, that brought my boy back, thank you.”

His hand moved and he pressed two fingers against the underside of his son’s jaw, just to listen to the heartbeat that steadily pulsed beneath.

A gentle knock against wood brought his attention back to the doorway where Dick stood, dark circles beneath his eyes, watching him.

“What did you do, Bruce?” He didn’t smile and looked at Bruce with a mixture of concern and fear.

“I don’t know what you mean, chum.”

“How did you know?” Dick stepped forward until he was in Bruce's face, forcibly moving his hand from Jason’s jaw “How did you know that Jason was going to come back?”

Bruce gently released his wrist from Dicks grasp “I didn’t do anything to him, son, I didn’t know he was going to do this when he did.” A twist on words but still truthful “He’s alive, Dickie, he’s going to be alright.”

“He was trying to dig his way out of his grave.” He was shaking and Bruce couldn’t help but pull him into a hug “Clark got to him just after he broke through the lid. He could have choked before we got to him, B, he could have died again and we would have never known.”

“You got to him in time, chum.”

They sat for a while, Bruce leaning down from the bed and Dick crumpled onto the floor, held up only by his father figures arms. Dick eventually calmed down and went quiet. He had poked his head out from Bruce's hold to stare at Jason.

“Hey, chum?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you ever met our neighbour, Timothy Drake?”

Chapter Text

Jason woke up two days later.

He was disorientated and struggled to move much more than his arms but, as the days passed, he regained some sense of his old self. The quietness, however, remained. Jason would share a few words with whoever spoke at him and could answer if he was asked a question, but in the fleeting moments he was left to his own devices silence would fill the air like a thick suffocating fog. Bruce had found him many times in the library, curled up in the alcove reserved just for him, which had gathered dust in his absence and the indents of where he'd used to sit were left like a persistent memory. Jason stared out the window, unmoving for hours at a time, with an empty expression.

It was one of those days when Bruce had gone looking for him. They were both late to lunch already and Alfred only had so much patience- for Bruce that is, he had an endless supply of patience for Jason, even prior to his passing.

Bruce joined Jason in the alcove, slowly sitting on the cushioned seating within an arms length of distance. From their viewpoint he could see the imposing Drake Manor off in the distance. Not one single light was on and the driveway was stark. Anyone that drove past would be led to assume that the house was abandoned but Bruce knew exactly what window to watch for signs of life.

“Are you hungry?”

Jason paused, eyes unfocussed for a brief moment, and nodded. His fingers curled into the tassels of the pillow in his lap. His hands were still bandaged, some of his fingernails torn away when he'd broken through the coffin.

“Let’s go downstairs then, Jaybird. Alfred’s serving food now.”

Despite the offer, neither of them made any attempt to move.

Bruce looked back to the window. There was someone outside Drake Manor, in the gardens. Even from the distance, he could recognise Timothy. There was a tiny flash near the boy’s neck and it dawned on Bruce that it was the flash of a camera. Tim had mentioned loving photography from a young age.

“Have you met our neighbours, Jay?”

The boy slowly shook his head, gaze flickering to the moving blurry blob Bruce was watching.

“That’s Timothy Drake, he’s a few years younger than you. He must be ten right now.” Bruce leaned his head against the cool glass. Despite the time since the rainy night, the cold he’d caught had stuck around and his head often felt warm “He’s attended the same galas as us before, you might have spoken once or twice.”

“Small.” Jason mumbled.

Bruce chuckled “I suppose he is short for his age, Jay, but he'd probably take offense from that.” With great effort, he rose to his feet and fondly ruffled Jason’s hair. The boy batted his hand away weakly, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Bruce counted it as a success “Would you like to meet him? I know Dicks a lot older than you and he’s not always at home. It could be nice to have a friend close by.”

“Hmm.” Jason hummed and looked at Bruce, slowly shifting to the edge of his seat “Dickie’s bad at Mario Kart.”

Bruce let out a heartier laugh than before, tilting his head back at the surprise of the five words. Jason rarely spoke in full sentences so, when he did, it was always a special delight “Well, let’s see if Tim’s any better, hm?”

-

After lunch had been eaten Jason stayed behind to help Alfred clear away the dishes. There were strict rules for who was allowed in the kitchen under Pennyworths supervision with Jason being the exception for all of them. He couldn’t get his bandages wet, so washing-up was off the table, however the boy was permitted to put the dry plates and cutlery back in their respective cupboards. Bruce had allowed himself to watch for a few seconds, happy to watch the peaceful scene, before leaving.

It was a short drive to Drake Manor. Bruce parked right at the entrance, leaving the convertible with the keys in the ignition, and took a leisurely walk around the side of the building. As he’d suspected, Timothy was still outside with his camera and Bruce couldn’t help but wonder if the kid had actually eaten that day. Perhaps he should’ve checked on him before lunch.

Tim had tucked his camera behind him, somehow not strangling himself with the strap around his neck, and was attempting to climb a tree. There were very few low-down branches for him to grasp onto and instead he’d tried to get his footing in a knot of the wood. Bruce winced and hastened his pace, just in time to catch the boy when he fell, wrapping arms around Tim’s torso as he thudded into his chest, camera first.

The boy let out a shriek at the sudden grab and thrashed around until Bruce gently lowered him onto the grass. Tim whirled around and went red with embarrassment when he recognised Bruce Wayne standing over him with a bemused smile.

“Are you alright, son?”

“I-uh, um.” Tim gulped and took a small step back “I’m okay, sir. I’m sorry for falling on you.”

“That’s alright, Tim, I’m just glad you’re not hurt. That could have been a nasty fall.” Bruce chuckled and crouched down to Timothy’s height “Is your camera alright?”

He let out a loud noise of panic and struggled to shift the camera back to where Tim could see it. Taking mercy on the boy, Bruce slowly moved his hands forward, cautious enough not to scare Tim further, and lifted the strap from his neck. He gave the camera a cursory glance before handing it back.

“Thank you, Mr Wayne.”

“That’s quite alright,” Bruce's smile changed for something softer. He had never really known Timmy when he was this young. There was a roundness to his face that had sharpened over time and Bruce struggled to believe the boy awkwardly fidgeting in front of him was ten years old, he looked seven “I was actually swinging by to ask if you’d like to come over to my home for a playdate with my son.”

Tim paused, confused, and likely recalling that Bruce publicly only had one ‘son’ “Uh, do you mean Mr Grayson?”

“Ah, no. You see, not many people are aware of this yet, but…” Bruce leaned in to whisper and held back a laugh when Timothy mirrored him “My son Jason has come back home.”

“He’s alive?” Tim gasped; eyes wide with wonder.

“He is. Jay’s been cooped up inside since he came back, though, and I was thinking he might enjoy having a friend come over to play with. What do you say?”

“I’d love to, Mr Wayne!” Tim was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet with childish excitement “Ca-Can I get my backpack first?”

“Of course, kiddo. You can bring your camera too, if you’d like, I’m sure Jay would love to see your photos.” Bruce stood and put his hands in his trousers pockets “I’ll wait in my car by the gates, alright?”

“Yes Mr Wayne!” Tim was running back to his house before he got the words out, excitement putting a skip in his step.

Despite what he’d said, Bruce watched him go and frowned when Tim halted to a stop before the backdoor to take his shoes off. There was an expensive appearing rug a few steps in, a terrible placement on the Drakes part, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Timothy’s parents would react to muddy footprints. If the way the boy had responded to a stern talking-to when he was older was any indication, hunched shoulders and poorly hidden flinches, then Bruce couldn’t get him out of that house fast enough. Especially if he was so eager to leave himself that he willingly believed the excuse he'd given.

-

“Small.”

Tim gaped at Jason, ears tinted red, and pouted “I’m not small!”

Jason smirked and placed a bandaged hand on top of Tim's hair. After a beat, he patted him “Baby.”

“I’m not!” Tim reached up to grab Jason’s hand in outrage but the older boy was too fast, hooking his fingers to the handle of Timothy’s backpack and half-guiding half-dragging him to the lounge area “Ah!”

Stirred by the commotion in the hallway, Dick poked his head out of a door and raised an eyebrow at his little brother tormenting a small unfamiliar child “Uh, Bruce?”

“This is Tim, chum, the neighbour I mentioned.” Bruce walked to him with a peaceful smile “He’s come over to spend some time with Jason.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes,” Bruce laughed. He took a quick glance over Dick’s shoulder; his computer was on and he was on call with some of the Titans. He recognised most of them and felt a pang of something when he saw Wally, camera held at an unflattering angle far too close to his face “Chum, I’m going to be out of town for a few days next week.”

“Why?” Dick drew out the word, suspicious, and narrowed his eyes.

“Business. Apparently, I can’t avoid my job forever, or at least that’s what Lucius keeps telling me.”

“Am I supposed to look after Jason while you’re gone?” Dick rolled his eyes, though it missed the frustration that it would have held before Jason had died.

“Well, Alfred will be here too. Timothy as well if Jason doesn’t scare him off and I’m sure Clark will check in at some point too. I was thinking, how about you invite some of your friends over? It’s been a while since Wally last visited. I’m sure they’d like to see Jason also.” Bruce leaned against the doorframe and watched Dick’s suspicion change to something difficult to read.

“Really? I, uh…” Dick looked over his shoulder, unsure of how to respond “I’d like that. Thanks, Bruce.”

“Anytime, chum.”

-

Eleven months, three weeks, and four days after the last interaction he’d had with Talia, Bruce showed up outside one the Metropolis safehouses she had been residing in. He didn’t know what her business was in the country, nor did he care to know, all that mattered was that she was within his reach.

Bruce huffed, a small smile on his lips, as he rung the doorbell and stepped back on the porch with an easy-going relaxed posture. Perhaps being in a younger body had allowed some of his feelings for her to linger, it was likely the same for Talia too. However too much time had passed for him, even if that life didn’t exist anymore, and he wasn’t waiting outside at five in the morning for Talia, rather something she had. Something they both shared.

Surprisingly, it was Talia herself who opened the door, not a servant. She looked young, the lines on her face lighter, and wore casual western clothes. Like this, Bruce could almost pretend she had retired from the League and put down her blades. Then he noticed the lines under her sweatpants of hidden weapons strapped to her lower leg and the fantasy faded.

“My beloved,” She spoke in a low warm tone, laced with suspicion, like a cup of herbal tea with arsenic sitting at the bottom, waiting to be stirred “I was not expecting you.”

“Hello, Talia.” Bruce managed a weary smile and moved closer “May I come in?”

“I assume you are not here on business.” She jerked her chin at his body; he was dressed as a civilian and unarmed.

“Not quite.” He laughed softly “I have something to discuss with you.”

“Well, then I suppose you had better come inside.” Talia stepped back and extended an arm to beckon him inside “The kitchen is hardly stocked, but I am sure I can manage to prepare us a drink of something.”

“Thank you.”

He entered and removed his suit jacket, folding it over his arm. Talia welcomed him further inside, where he took a seat at the kitchen island, and a small tea cup of a deep amber liquid was placed in front of him. It was from a pretty set of crockery, the porcelain decorated with soft blue florals and embossed with gold, along with a matching saucer. A calloused thumb traced the handle before lifting it up to his lips, taking a small sip. It tasted of honey and ginger.

“What has brought you to my door then, Bruce.” Talia leaned back against the counter, a cup of her own clasped between her two hands. She watched him as he drank, only then taking a sip herself once he had swallowed it.

“Our son.”

Talia stilled.

“I am aware he’s alive, Talia, and that you lied to me about the miscarriage.”  Despite his words, Bruce didn’t raise his voice or show anger. He’d had years of his own time to come to terms with what she had done. He’d always wondered how much of the lie about their baby dying had been entirely her own. Ra’s must have known that Bruce would’ve never knowingly allowed his son to be raised in the League “I want to see him.”

Talia took a long pause, his words staining the air between them, before she spoke “How did you come to know of this?” If she hadn’t spent most of her life carefully creating a stern-faced façade, her voice would have shaken as she asked the question.

“I am a detective, Talia, it’s my job to know these things.” A bold-faced lie, but she hardly needed to know of that “Where is he?”

“Asleep.” She whispered, eyes glancing to a door over Bruce’s shoulder for a split-second.

“I can’t allow a child to undergo League training, you know that.” Bruce took another long sip of his tea. It soothed his throat, chasing away the last dregs of his cold “That does not mean I will keep him from you entirely though, Talia.”

“Keep him? He is my son-”

“He is our son. A child you have kept from me for so long.”

“When was I supposed to tell you?” Her tea cup slammed down onto the counter, rattling on its saucer, and she darted forward with a snarl on her lips and furious tears prickling at her eyes “Before or after your stray was beaten to death, Bruce?”

His grip tightened around his cup “That’s not fair, Talia.” He spoke in a broken quiet tone and sighed, attempting to compose himself before she pushed the conversation further away from his control “Besides, I think you shall find both of my children have returned to the Manor, along with an addition.”

“Ah, so you’re looking to add my Damian to your collection?” She laughed bitterly “He is not a doll to be paraded through your tabloids, Bruce.”

“Neither is he a soldier to be used in our battles.” Bruce stared straight into her eyes, unflinching at the anger and panic he found there “I could give him a peaceful childhood. He could go to school, grow up with his brothers, and not be subjected to the training the League has to offer. He could be happy, Talia.”

She didn’t respond and was the one to break eye contact.

“Can I see him?”

Talia deeply sighed but eventually nodded.

Bruce didn’t need to be directed, he remembered where she had looked before, and gently pushed open the door. The room was dark, only a small slither of early morning light managing to slip past the drawn curtains. There was a crib in the middle of the room and, between the bars, Bruce could see gentle movement. He leaned over and felt a genuine smile spread across his face, reaching up to his eyes, as he saw the baby inside.

Damian was awake. He had been kicking his feet under his baby blanket with one arm stretched out to grasp at the stuffed tiger that was easily half his size with his free hand tucked in his mouth, being mercilessly chewed on by his gums. Bruce reached down and gently pried his hand free, pulling a tissue from his pocket to wipe his sons face. Damian happily gurgled and latched onto his arm, curling around it.

“Hello, Damian.” Bruce whispered.

He lifted his son up, with a carefulness he’d only used with disarming bombs or handling hostage negotiations, and cradled him to his chest. Bruce rested his forehead against Damian's, one hand cradling the back of his head, and let out a content sigh of relief.

“I expect to visit him when I please, Beloved.” Talia hung back in the doorway, arms crossed, with a halo around her from the kitchens cold lighting “As well as being able to take him with me when I wish.”

“You can have weekends to visit. Taking him elsewhere, especially out of Gotham’s borders, must be discussed ahead of time.” Bruce slowly moved side to side, soothing the baby, and pressed a kiss to his cheek when Damian reached out a hand to touch his chin. He turned around to face Talia “I do not intent to raise my son without his mother.”

Talia flinched at the subtle jab.

Bruce brushed his fingers through Damian's soft baby hair, enjoying holding his son in a way that he’d never allowed himself to in his previous life, when a thought crossed his mind. Damian had been around ten years old when he first appeared, claiming his right as a Wayne heir, and it hadn’t been too long after Red Hoods appearance. If the timeline had continued on its previous path, that would have only been a few years into the future, which just didn’t make sense. The Damian chewing on the collar of his shirt was still in infancy, it didn’t add up.

“You were going to artificially age him somehow, weren’t you?”

For the second time that morning, Talia looked away from him in a silent admission of her guilt.

“Hmn.” Bruce struggled to restrain his frustration and distracted himself with his son “I’ll help you pack his things.”

-

When Bruce returned to his home that evening, baby papoose around his torso with a half-asleep Damian held inside, the Manor was surprisingly still standing. He recognised one of the Teen Titans cars parked in the driveway, smiling to himself that Dick truly had reached out to his old friends, and looked down to Damian. His baby was more concerned with chewing on the foot of his tiger toy. Bruce kissed the top of his head.

“Let’s go find your brothers, sweetheart.”

Damian let out a string of nonsense noises, which Bruce decided to take as agreement.

Upon entering, Bruce could hear people talking loudly down the hall, most of the voices he recognised. He paused, hand hovering over the door handle, when he heard Dick laugh, loud and boisterous, in a way he hadn’t heard since he’d been his Robin.

Bruce paused and then decided to leave in search of Jason. The games room was empty, as was his bedroom, and it was only when he went in search of his son in the library that he had any luck. Asleep in his alcove, Timothy tucked in between his side and the window, was Jason. He had his arms wrapped around Tim, his chin resting on top of his head, and a throw blanket covering their legs- though it seemed Jason was hogging it.

Damian made another noise right before dropping his chewed tiger toy directly on Jason’s face. Bruce was too distracted to catch it in time and picked it up to see Jason scrunch up his nose as he woke up. One grey-green eye cracked open and moved from Bruce to Damian. Jason opened both eyes and wriggled, not letting go of Tim, to get a better look at the strange gurgling baby.

“Bruce?”

“Hey, Jaylad. Did you have fun with Tim?”

“Mmm. Who’s the baby?”

“This is Damian.” Bruce sat on the edge of the cushioned seat and gently removed Damian from the papoose. He lowered him to lie on top of Jason, who watched the baby with wide eyes “He’s going to be staying with us, lad, as a member of the family.”

“Brother?”

Bruce did his best not to get choked up and hoped that in the darkness his son couldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes “Yeah, he’s your brother, Jay.”

Jason squinted at Damian and gingerly extended a finger to poke him in the brow. Damian scowled before mouthing to bite his finger in retaliation “Yours?”

“Yes, Jay. He’s mine.”

“Mhm. Goodnight.” Jason rolled over, not by much, and cradled Damian to his chest.

“Alright, lad.” Bruce sighed and kissed all three of his sons’ foreheads “Goodnight.”

Bruce sat there for a while, watching the boys sleep peacefully in the moonlight, and tucked the blanket around them. He had missed out on those kinds of peaceful moments in his first go of things. He’d managed a few bedtime stories and movie nights with Dick and Jason, but the sudden reality of his kid’s mortality had shaken him beyond repair. He’d thought that, maybe, if he restrained himself from those kinds of connections then it wouldn’t hurt as much, only to fail again and again. He’d loved every child he’d taken under his cape and lost each one, again and again.

With a shaky breath, Bruce wiped at the corners of his eyes and did his best to steady himself. His family was almost as he’d remembered, there were only a few more rooms left to fill. Though, how he was going to find Cassandra or reach out to Duke, he had no idea.

Chapter Text

Dust hung in the air, lit up like fireflies from the light in between the blinds, and drifted throughout the unkempt apartment. The only parts that had been maintained were the metal railings. Gordan had installed them before Barbara had been discharged from the hospital, insisting he’d make ‘her space’ workable and not take away any independence. Barbara had thrown her lunch tray at a wall, narrowly missing a nurse’s head, at the mere suggestion of spending time in a hospice facility. She’d apologised to the woman after but insisted her intent had not wavered.

Her father hadn’t gone back on her word; Barbara’s independence hadn’t been impeded on, he would only visit when she allowed him to, and she had been left to wallow in her… not misery. It wasn’t grief either. She’d had months to come to terms with the loss of her mobility and attend countless physio appointments. The loss of Jason, that toothy-grinned sarcastic little kid she’d come to love as an annoying younger brother, that had been difficult. She hadn’t been told about his death until a few days after, when she was in the Hospital, and it was only because Dick had broken down in tears during one of his visits. Her dad had filled her in on some of the details. She hadn’t seen Bruce before her ‘accident’.

The news had filled in the rest.

With no voice to nag her into a daily routine, Barbara had settled to rot in her bed, because as much as losing Jason and the feeling in her legs had beaten her down, nothing felt quite like the hole that had been craved out of her like having to give up Batgirl. It was hardly comparable and yet she felt as if that emotional wound hadn’t begun to heal, still bloody and raw.

A muffled buzz came from underneath her pillow. Barbara groaned and dragged her upper body to blindly reach out for her phone, which she’d long since lost to the labyrinth of her bed covers. She pressed the button on the side and held the screen to her face. She paused. Barbara moved up again, this time to scramble for her glasses, and looked back to the phone screen.

B-Man:

There are some things for us to discuss, please come to the Manor at your soonest convenience.

Barbara rolled her eyes and let out a vaguely-amused huff. Bruce texted like an old man. He’d probably learnt it from Alfred.

Her phone buzzed again. There was an attachment, a location on a map.

B-Man:

Please keep an eye out for the young child staying in this residence. Her and her mother may be of some importance to a future investigation.

B-Man is typing…

Barbara sagged back against her headboard and wiped a hand wearily down her face. It was the first contact they’d made in over four months and it was an order. This wasn’t even Bruce texting her; it was Batman.

B-Man:

Jason is alive and well, he is also in the Manor currently, if you would like to visit

She dropped her phone in shock and, two beats later, dived out of her bed for her wheelchair.

-

The next day, after smothering Jason with hugs and teary conversation, Barbara headed out on the street to track down the address she’d been given. Bruce had been cryptic when she’d asked for more information, giving her as little as ‘the daughter is a good kid’ and ‘you might be able to reach out to her’.

She ended up outside of a rundown apartment block in the Narrows. The building looked one gust of wind away from being condemned, newspapers were plastered over most of the windows, and against all odds the neighbourhood was lively. The kids running around didn’t have a proper playground, the poor excuse for a swing set and slide beyond disrepair, but that didn’t stop them from crowding the empty roads. One child had a bucket of cheaply bought chalk and that was all they’d needed to create their own town, in pastels, on the concrete. There were colourful shops, hot-wheels looking cars, even what Barbara thought was supposed to be a dragon, and flowers. So many flowers.

Barbara wheeled closer, eyes watching the little creations come to life, and took a moment to breath the ‘fresh’ air.

A small hand tapped on her shoulder and, when she looked back, saw the girl she had been asked to look out for. She was small, about ten years old, with an unruly mop of blonde curls no hairbrush could think of taming. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and twinkling with curiosity.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Barbara smiled warmly and maneuvered her chair to face the kid properly “I’m Barbara, but everyone calls me Babs. What’s your name?”

“Stephanie.” The girl grabbed a clump of her hair and began to chew on the end “My mama calls me Stephie.”

“Yeah? I’d like to speak with her if I can. Is your mama around?”

“She’s at work.” Steph shrugged.

Barbara knew for a fact that Crystal Brown had left her job with Park Row General three days ago, after complaints about missing prescription books and missing medication deliveries had come to an all time high. There had been no reports since she’d handed in her notice, painting a clear picture.

“Do you know when she might be home?”

“Mmm,” Stephanie rocked back and forth on the tip of her shoes to the heel and released the thoroughly chewed hair she had been gripping “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright, Stephanie. How about I keep you company until she gets back, huh?”

“I want to play superheroes!”

“Oh yeah? Who’s your favourite?”

Stephanie grinned and dug through one of her pockets, pulling out a handmade doll. It had a few strands of red wool for hair, a poorly sewed yellow cape, purple clothes, with two different size button eyes. She squeezed it tight and thrust it forward, almost hitting Barbara’s nose in her enthusiasm.

“Batgirl!”

-

Surprisingly, a baby high chair had been stored away in the attic from Bruce’s childhood. Alfred had brought it down that morning, after the residual shock of the sudden-baby had worn off and Bruce had been thoroughly scolded, to buckle in Damian for his breakfast. It was an unusually domestic scene in Wayne Manors kitchen, with a sleepy-eyed Tim kicking his feet back and forth, plate cleared and watching Jason slowly eat his pancakes. Every so often, food would fall off his plate and Tim, without a word, would pick up his fork to nudge it back on. Damian was babbling away at the far end and Alfred was seated next to him, for once, to guide spoons of banana mush into his mouth.

Dick hesitated in the doorway.

It wasn’t as if he was unhappy with the current situation, he was elated to have Jason back, but right now his kitchen was full of strangers and Bruce was nowhere to be found. He knew he hadn’t lived in the Manor for a long time but, in that moment, it looked unrecognisable. A childish emotion rose in him, wanting nothing more than his dad to explain what the hell was happening.

“Master Richard,” Alfred smiled at him and glanced back to Damian as the baby tried to grab the plastic spoon out of his grasp “You may help yourself to the pancakes on the counter. I must say, this is a late start for you- you missed Miss Barbara this morning.”

“What? Why was Babs here?” Dick frowned, confused, and gingerly entered the kitchen to scrounge up a plate of food “Is she alright?”

“Quite. I believe Master Bruce informed her of Master Jason's miraculous return and she’d wanted to see it for herself.” Alfred retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the mess from the baby’s face, which Damian immediately tried to put in his mouth.

“Yeah, where is Bruce?” Dick placed his plate down opposite Jason and gave Tim a restrained smile, which the boy absolutely beamed at in response.

“Master Bruce left a few moments ago.”

“Did he say why?”

Jason, gaze directed downwards, jerked his chin up when Dick spoke again. Without much of a sign of life behind his eyes, he inched his hand across the table in his older brother’s direction. Both Alfred and Dick paused their conversation to watch him and the latter hesitantly reached out his own hand to the boy. Jason tapped the table and made a strange motion, Dick understanding after a few attempts that he was gesturing for him to flip his hand over. Palm up, Dick watched, both confused and excited. He’d hardly spoken to Jason since his return and it felt like a dream to watch his little brother quite literally reach out to him.

Trembling fingertips brushed over his skin and settled on Dick’s palm, light as a feather and barely there at all. An object was placed there and Jason snatched his hand back, no longer interested. He grabbed the scruff of Tim’s shirt and dragged the boy away, who seemed to have resigned himself to being lifted like a misbehaving cat and only wiggled in the air for a few moments before giving up.

“What is it, Master Richard?” Alfred mused with a gentle expression, continuing to feed Damian with great patience.

Dick huffed out a small laugh and held it up under the warm kitchen light.

“It’s a marble.”

A younger Jason, a month into staying with Bruce, had collected marbles and amassed enough to fill a jar, which he kept on his bedside table. Dick had asked before why, out of all things, he collected marbles. Other kids would have chosen something interesting, like comic books or action figures. He didn’t even play with them, just kept them in a jar and occasionally held them in his hand. Jason had shrugged him off and stopped showing anyone his collection, the marbles being stowed in his wardrobe after that, out of sight.

Dick rolled it back and forth between his finger and thumb. Encased in clear glass were three swirls of colour, intertwined in beautiful twists; red, green, and yellow. The marble was pocketed and Dick excused himself from the table.

“Were you not looking for Master Bruce?”

“I think,” He let out a slow breath and straightened his posture “I think I’m going to hang out with my brother today. Bruce can wait.”

“Indeed, Master Richard. Perhaps you could take young Damian with you?” Not waiting for an answer, Alfred lifted the baby out of the high chair straps and passed him into Dick’s unready arms. He corrected Dick’s hold on the child and patted the man on the shoulder “I will expect all four of you down for lunch, preferably unscathed.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Alfie.”

Dick departed from the kitchen and panicked for a brief moment when Damian shifted in his arms. He looked down, meeting the babies wide green eyes, and sighed. He hadn’t expected to turn into an actual babysitter.

“Bah.”

“Yeah, me too buddy.”

-

Coat collar turned up to protect himself from the chill in the air, Bruce walked the city streets of Gotham with a careful eye.

Where a younger, more naïve, man had once seen misery and misfortune, Bruce could now notice the perseverance. Despite the poor weather, which was more than common, and the dangers that living in the borders of Gotham promised to its people, the streets were full. People pushed past each other in a steady current, coursing over the sidewalk like rushing water, with their minds focused on the days work. Never what was happening in a week, or if they could make it to the coming month, just that day, because when the day was over, you could go to sleep and dream about the next.

After Jasons death, Bruce had struggled to bring him self to exist in the present. He’d thrown himself into unnecessary fights, stopped eating, and anything other than fulfilling the desire for self-punishment was pushed to the wayside.

He’d often wondered how on earth he’d survived the aftermath of Jason. He supposed, the beginning with Tim had helped numb the pain, at first being a much-needed distraction. Someone to protect. Not because he’d immediately cared about the child, but because he'd worn Jason's colours, and the image of a bloody and beaten Robin had been burned into the backs of his eyelids once already.

When Stephanie came around, he’d begun to realise how much of him had been replaced with unbridled anger. Around the appearance of Cassandra, Bruce had begun to return to his roots and kickstart his old training that had guided him through the loss of his parents. By the time Damian popped up, he’d craved the fulfilment a family had given him. Wayne Manor had not been built to be haunted. It couldn’t survive without some form of life.

Then there was Duke.

Fifteen, never looking for fights but somehow always ending up in one, leading a ragtag gang of teenagers with no real training or sense of direction, fueled alone by the sense of injustice they’d been raised on. He’d crafted his armour out of thrifted clothes and the image of what Robin had always meant to be. Not just hope or perseverance, but the holding of someone to the mark, be it the Rogues or Batman himself.

Duke had terrified Bruce at first when he considered what the Batman and Robin legacy had become. Other kids that’d played Robin died doing so, in horrible, painful, ways. The idea Bruce was responsible for leading them to their deaths had broken something already chipped inside him. Then he’d met the kid and couldn’t help but feel pride, because how was it that someone as far from the path as Batman had been able to inspire such a kind yet indomitable soul? Where others saw something like kindness as a weakness, Duke weighed it on a scale with a sword in hand and a blindfold round his eyes.

Bruce stopped his walk a few yards away from a community basketball court. The fences were rusted and torn in many places, and the flood lights had broken months ago. Despite the disrepair and clear abandonment from the city, a horde of kids took to the concrete with patched-basketballs in hand to play. There was an electricity in the crowd of children watching and, right smack-dab in the middle, was a baby-faced crying Duke Thomas.

Almost stumbling at the sight, Bruce frowned and watched as an older kid elbowed Duke hard in the side of his head, unaware the young boy was there, as they muscled past for a better look at the game. Rejected by the flow of eager onlookers, Duke was pushed further and further back until he was on the outskirts, tripping on a loose shoelace and falling backwards.

Bruce darted forward through the courts entrance, catching the boy with two gentle hands on his back, guiding him up onto his feet. Duke, one hand fisted in the bottom of his oversized shirt and the other balled at his teary eyes, turned to look at the stranger- who in another life called himself a father- and stifled his sobs.

“Are you alright?”

Duke nodded and took an apprehensive step back “Who are you?”

“My name is Bruce.” He did his best to smile welcomingly and crouched down until he and Duke were eye-to-eye “How about we go find your parents, how does that sound chum?”

“I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”

“Quite right, kiddo.” Bruce managed a real smile at that. The Duke he’d known had always joked that he felt as if he’d been led into a life straight out of a trope-filled movie. That his stranger-danger senses must have been broken when he’d said ‘yes’ to being taken in by a random white billionaire “That looks like it hurts.” He pointed to the already-forming bruise on the side of Dukes head.

“Mhm.” Duke nodded and looked down, as if Bruce hadn’t already seen the tears.

“Do you think getting yourself an ice cream might help?” He took out his wallet to retrieve a few bills, more than enough for whatever the nearby ice cream truck was selling, and offered them.

Duke grinned through the pain and slowly reached out for the money, as if he was half-expecting Bruce to tear it away “Really?”

“Really.” He nodded.

Taking the bills in a fist, Duke darted away to ice cream truck. A woman that had been ordering ice cream of her own handed her cones to the children by her side and lifted Duke so he could see the board. Knowing the boy was in safe hands, Bruce turned his attention back to the basketball court.

It wouldn’t be hard to convince his board to form a charity aimed at keeping public spaces in good repair. It would hardly be the first ‘publicity stunt’ Brucie Wayne had ever pulled, a simple half-thought story about ‘seeing a sad looking park’ on a morning jog would be enough to persuade the board members to spare the funds. That was one benefit of his airhead persona- no one ever asked him questions. They all assumed he was too dumb to understand when he was supposed to answer.

A tap on his shoulder drew Bruce out of his thoughts to find Duke, ice cream already around his mouth in a mess, with a half-eaten cone in one hand and another, untouched, outstretched to him.

“Oh,” Bruce paused “Is this for me?”

Duke nodded.

“Thank you, chum.” He took the ice cream as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever been handed before in his life and sat down on the ground to watch the game, Duke by his side.

He knew that both Mr and Mrs Thomas were kind-hearted people; after all, Duke had been raised in their image. It was the Joker that had ruined the family, condemning the couple to an inpatient facility on complete assistance for the rest of their lives, and that was after they’d been found. Duke had spent months searching, unsure if his parents were still alive, passed around the foster system until he caught the eyes of other children that were just as abandoned.

This boy, Duke, was practically untouched by what had once been his torturous teenage years, still in the innocence that only a child could observe. He was going to grow up one day and lose that, but it would never be at the hands of a monster.

Not when Bruce still drew breath.

His second chance would never go to waste because he understood that chance wasn’t wholly his alone, it belonged to his children.

Even if it meant they’d never be his children at all.

Chapter Text

Lego pieces clicked into place, the sharp snaps filling the silence in Jason’s bedroom. It had been quiet ever since Tim had insisted on going home, having already spent three days at Wayne Manor, and Jason was left with Dick for company. He was leaning up against a bedframe and sat on the floor, just like Jason, watching his little brother fiddle with the tiny plastic pieces. They were from a set but Jason had discarded the instructions and grew frustrated when Dick tried to ‘help’, only calming down when he was allowed to sit by himself, making abstract shapes to then take them apart and rebuild it all again.

Dick held his phone loosely in one hand. A conversation was going in the Teen Titans group chat about their next meet-up plans and he watched it pass by, making no effort to chime in or even acknowledge the chat. He’d seen his friends a few days ago when they’d visited the Manor, they hadn’t upset him in any way, but the idea of typing so much as a word seemed exhausting.

A slight tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to Jason and a flat slab of connected colourful bricks was placed on his leg. Dick paused and gingerly picked it up when his little brother made no move to stop him. The lower half was purple, while the top half had two small green dots, surrounded by brown, and then that surrounded by a bold red.

“Jason,” Dick sat up straighter and really looked at the Lego bricks “Is this meant to be Kori?”

Jason shrugged and slid a few more collections of bricks across the carpet. There was one for Wally, Donna, and Garth, as well as the beginnings of what was likely Raven still half-built in his hands.

“Do you want to meet the Titans, Jay?” He tried to decipher what the boy was attempting to say and shuffled closer “We could go to the Tower if you want.”

Jason shook his head and turned back to the small piles of Legos still scattered across the floor to continue building Raven.

“Is this about their visit earlier this week?” Dick moved to sit next to Jason and watch over his shoulder as he pressed a red stud into a snot brick for her red gem “These are really good, y’know. The Titans might like to see them.”

Jason shrugged again but Dick could see the tips of his ears flush red.

“Do you want to see them now?”

“Mhm,” Jason's eyes flickered to the door “Later, ‘m hungry.”

Dick smiled and ruffled his brother’s hair, smiling wider when he squirmed and batted his hand away “Alright, Jay. Let’s get some food, huh?”

-

When the two brothers emerged from the staircase and drifted to the kitchen, it was midday. It was likely Alfred was out of the house, as he was owed twice a week, leaving the Waynes to sort out their own lunch. Bruce had beaten the two boys to it and, when he saw Dick and Jason take a seat at the kitchen island, slid them each a plate.

“Where did you two disappear off to all morning?” Bruce asked over his shoulder as he cleared up his mess.

“Nowhere. I was thinking, Jason and I might head over to Titans Tower for the rest of the day. It’s been a while since we were all together, y’know, and maybe a familiar environment might help Jay like Leslie said.” Dick picked at his lunch, taking a small bite out of one of the triangle sandwiches on his plate “Besides, I wouldn’t mind hanging out with the whole team. I’ve been in Gotham for a while, I miss the fresh air.”

“Hm.” The man hummed and nodded along as Dick spoke “Has your Team been given any cases recently?”

“Uh, no? I think Wally is working on something and Raven has got her own thing going on, as always, but there’s no group-case that I know of. Why?”

“I have something you might be interested in.” Bruce plucked off his yellow rubber gloves and draped them over the faucet to dry “How familiar are you with the name David Cane?”

-

“Aww.”

Kori floated around Jason, audibly cooing, and crushed the boy in a tight hug. She rested her chin on the top of his head and squeezed him tighter.

“How come you’ve never been this happy when you hug me?” Dick jokingly asked with a pout and walked past them. Jason wasn’t fighting against the hold, though it did take a few moments until his arms jerkily lifted to hug Kori back, so he didn’t bother intervening. Jason's comfortability with touch was different every hour. It was understandable but tough to predict.

“You have never given me such a delightful gift.” Kori cupped Jason’s face in the palms of her hands and adoringly gazed down at him with softly glowing green eyes “It is wonderful to meet you again, Jason.”

“Let the kid go, Star.” Garth rolled his eyes. He was attempting to act aloof but it was hard to convince anyone of it when he was also cradling his Lego-self like a baby “Rob said we have a mission debrief in five.”

Dick slowly untangled Jason from Kori’s grip and ushered the boy to wander off “Mhm, straight from the Batman himself.”

“Batman?” Garth gaped at him “I thought you were ignoring all his calls?”

“A lot has happened to change that.” He glanced at Jason, who had sat down on the couch in the lounge room and aimlessly began to press buttons on the TV remote, flicking through channels without a second thought “Like, a lot and besides, he can make a pretty convincing argument.”

“Is the kid coming with us?”

“Absolutely not.” Dick sternly cut off that train of thought and began to shepherd the rest of the Titans to the meeting room to avoid his little brother eavesdropping “He’s been doing well with his recovery but he is nowhere near combat ready. Besides, if Batman had his way, he’d never wear a mask again and I can’t say I’d blame him.”

He stationed himself at the head of the meeting table and waited until each of the members took their seats.

“David Cane.” Dick pressed a button and the JLA file for their mission subject appeared on the screen behind him “One of the world’s most deadly assassins with noted affiliations to Ra’s Al Ghul. He’s been causing trouble across the globe, or at least wherever he’s paid to be, and most recently it’s been discovered that he’s met with a few high figures in the world of human trafficking. The word is that Cane has some kind of weapon that he’s been collecting hefty bids for. Our mission, infiltrate his most recent safehouse and remove the weapon from his ownership.”

“What is it?”

“Batman couldn’t say for certain.” Dick sighed “Chances are, when we see it, we’ll know. Now, unfortunately the others are busy elsewhere so we’ll be a small team for this. Suit up, we leave in fifteen. We need to get to Cain before he moves on to the next job.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’ll be staying here. Wally, how do you feel about babysitting?” Dick smirked at his old friend, who groaned and slumped into his chair like a child.

“Man, I thought I escaped that when you called me.” Wally dramatically huffed and a second later, he was smiling “Sure, I’ll keep an eye on the tyke, but you’ll owe me.”

“When don’t I?”

-

The remaining Titans had left the common area to suit up, leaving Wally to sit back on the couch and fish the TV remote from behind the cushions. He switched it on and the loading screen for a streaming service appeared.

“Hey, kid.” Wally called over his shoulder to where he could hear Jason shuffling around in the kitchen “What do you want to watch?”

He got no response.

“Y’know, you’ve probably not caught up on any shows you used to watch, well… before.” He held up the remote in the direction of the kitchen “You can pick whatever.”

The remote remained in his hand but a bottle of juice- which he recognised as one of Dick’s from the communal fridge- appeared next to it as Jason shuffled behind him.

“Huh, thanks kid.” Wally set the remote down and took the offered beverage. He unscrewed the cap and downed most of it in one go “So, what do you want to do while your brothers gone?”

Jason shrugged and climbed over the back of the couch to sit next to him. He ignored the TV and the offered remote, instead choosing to stare intensely with an entirely blank expression at Wally. The older boy chuckled awkwardly and nudged him gently with his elbow.

“Are you alright, Jason?” Wally yawned “Your brother is going to be all good, y’know, he’ll be back in no time.”

Jason didn’t budge.

“Do you want me to call your dad or something? He can come pick you…”

Wally frowned as his head tilted forward with an unusual heaviness, his chin brushing against his collar bone, and blinked slowly. His eyes drifted from the slight smirk pulling at the corner of Jasons mouth to the bottle of juice.

“Oh, you little shiii…”

He slumped against the couch cushions. Jason pulled a throw blanket over his body, patted his hair in apology, and tiptoed away in the direction of the tower’s hangar.

-

The T-Jet landed in the clearing of a forest, enveloped by the trees and fog in a perfect disguise. Dick still activated the cloaking program regardless, there was no harm in being too cautious. He adjusted his earpiece to the correct channel, tuning into the team’s chatter after a brief moment of radio interference.

“-just saying, if I get a tick I swear to god, I’m burning this place to the ground.” Garth shuddered dramatically.

Dick chuckled and fiddled with the volume as he prepared to depart from the jet “We’re moving out in five, guys. Aqualad, you’re taking the river while Kori and I handle the longer route on land. If our intel is correct, Cain will be holed up in the lodge a quarter mile from our location. The weapon will be with him.”

“And if we cannot find it?” Kori asked.

“Then we persuade Cain to tell us where it is.”

True to his word, they left the jet and moved into their positions. Garth was more than happy to sink into the water and slink along with the current. The river opened up to the mouth of a lake close to the lodge and he sank to the bottom while the rest of his teammates caught up to him.

Kori was drifting a few feet above the ground, head poking out above the tree foliage to keep lookout, and Dick followed on foot. It was silent in the forest, unnervingly so.

“Nightwing, what will we be doing with Mr Cain once this mission is over?” Kori called down to him.

“We’ll hand him over to the Justice League,” Dick answered while keeping his eye on his surroundings, escrima sticks held at the ready by his sides “He has plenty to answer to.”

“Then what are we to do with his weapon?” Kori poked her head down in between the branches, fully upside down, and looked at Dick with an expression of worry “If it is truly so powerful that it must be removed from his possession, can we trust it to be kept from falling into the wrong hands?”

He sighed “I don’t know, Kori. If it comes to it, I’ll contact Batman and weigh the risks of destroying it, but let’s focus on finding the guy first. He must be pretty paranoid to live in the middle of nowhere.”

“I don’t know, Nightwing.” Kori smiled softly at her surroundings “It appears rather peaceful this far from the major cities.”

“You know in any other circumstance I might agree but right now I’m wondering what Cain has that’s so dangerous that he hides out here. The nearest grocery store is three hours away.”

The two moved onwards, unaware of the pair of eyes watching them closely, hesitating before tracing the Titans path back the way they came.

-

Jason shuffled out from his hiding place once he was certain the T-Jet had been abandoned. He had snuck behind the parachute packs with a small-sized tarp for cover and breathed in shallow breaths for minimal movement. He tucked the tarp back into the gap and wandered up to the front of the plane. He sat in the pilot’s seat and fiddled with buttons on the dash, sparking the radio into life and tuning in to the teams’ mission channel.

“Nothing sketchy below the surface. I’m going to move closer to check for any signs of life in the cabin.”

“Alright, Aqualad. Keep your distance and do not engage until me and Star catch up to you.” Dick answered his teammate.

Jason continued to listen but diverted his attention to hunting down whatever snacks Dick had stashed around the place. In the span of a couple minutes, he had half a pack of gum, two mini bars of chocolate, and a family sized bag of chips. He popped open the chips first and shoved a handful into his mouth, crunching loudly.

A noise behind him made Jason pause mid-crunch and he very slowly turned to look behind the pilot’s chair. Wearing no shoes, a trail of muddy footprints behind her, was a small girl. She was Asian with short croppy hair, cut by someone who had no idea what they were doing, and a matching black set of a plain shirt and sweatpants. The strings at her waist were untied and instead tangled one of her hands, wound around her fingers, an anxious habit.

Jason began to chew the chips in his mouth again and offered her the bag.

Cautiously, she stepped forward until she was just out of reach of Jason, but close enough to swipe the bag of chips from his hands. She skittered back until she figured she was safe, eyes fixed on Jason, and ate with a ravenous hunger. Jason leaned down to slide a chocolate bar across the floor to her as well and, once she was finished with the chips, she ate that too.

The longer he watched the girl, the more he noticed; the bruises on her arms, the bleeding scratches on her legs, and the tenseness in her posture.

“Alright guys, move in.”

Both kids glanced towards the radio.

“Cain has been located on the second floor, east window. Back away, Nightwing.” Starfire spoke, her voice crackled through the radios speaker.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want the shards to fall on you when I fly through the glass.” There was a loud crash.

The girl pointed at the radio, chewing on a square of chocolate slowly, but did not say a word. There was dirt under her fingernails. Sounds of struggling, grunts and shouts of pain, came through the radio.

“What?” Jason mumbled.

The girl waved her pointed hand again, as if to point harder, and stared directly into Jason’s soul.

“Do you…” He shuffled in his seat “Know who they’re fighting?”

She stared.

“My brother.” Jason sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve “He c’n help.”

The girl held up the empty chocolate wrapper and shook it in the air. Jason slid the other bar across to her and watched, listening to a long and loud fight, as she continued to eat as if she’d been starving all her life.

“Star, duck!”

Jason returned to his nosy rifling through of Dick’s things. He was a slob, as Alfred fondly called him, and left empty wrappers and loose pieces of equipment strewn everywhere.

“Aqualad, get ready to grab this guy.” There was a loud splash a few beats later.

He unearthed a few more untouched snacks along with a sealed bottle of water and when he turned to offer them to the girl found she was only inches away from his face, leaning over the back of his seat to watch him. She took the water bottle out of his hands and cracked it open, taking a long sip.

“Ah, fuck!” Aqualad yelped “He bit me!”

“I’ve got him.”

“That little- you humans better not carry rabies, Nightwing!”

Jason turned down the volume.

“Aqualad, I think you’ll be fine.”

Jason moved very slowly, giving the girl time to pull back, and tapped her on the arm. He gestured to the radio again “D’you know him?”

She maintained eye contact and, once she had found whatever she was looking for in his gaze, nodded.

“How?”

She pointed to her forearm at a large purple bruise. It resembled the shape of a handprint.

-

Carrying an unconscious tank of a man made the walk back to the T-Jet quite slow, even if Kori was taking his full weight by herself. Garth was refusing to leave the river, cradling his bitten arm to his chest unnecessarily (it hadn’t even pierced the skin) as he walked through knee-high water. Dick wasn’t too injured, aside from some cuts and scrapes, but a dark cloud hung over his head. They hadn’t found the infamous ‘weapon’, even after questioning Cain for almost an hour and turning the lodge upside down.

He sighed a heavy sigh and dragged a hand down the side of his face while the side of the jet opened up with a mechanical hum.

“Star, secure Cain to the seating while I deal with Garths boo-boo.” He climbed up and assisted Garth too, while Kori simply flew past them.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m a fry.”

 Dick flicked him on the forehead “I won’t when you start acting like a big-fish. Come on, let’s find you a band-aid.”

He walked to the front of the jet and froze in his tracks, Garth bumping face-first into his back.

“Ack!” Garth cradled his nose with two webbed hands and kicked the back of Dick’s calf in retaliation “What was that for?”

“Uh,” Dick adjusted his tone to something more soothing and slowly crouched to the floor “Jason?”

Jason was sat on the floor, legs tucked up against his chest, watching an entirely random child play with a handful of Lego bricks. She wasn’t making any discernible shape, rather simply clicking them together only to take them apart and start from scratch. The girl was malnourished and small for her age, looking tiny next to Jason, but the longer he looked the more Dick suspected the two weren’t that far apart in age.

“Hm.”

“Hey buddy, want to tell me who your new friend is?”

The girl got frustrated with the last pieces as she took her build apart. They were stuck and she began to hit them against the ground.

“No name.” Jason mumbled and reached forward to help pull the bricks apart “Guy had her.”

“What guy, Jay?” Dick frowned and calmly began to inch forward, closer to the kids.

“Bad guy, on the radio.”

“David Cain?”

The girl paused and put all the Lego bricks down. She gracefully rose up to her feet- which Dick noticed were bare and covered in dry blood as she did- and ran towards him. He jolted, arms raising to prepare to defend himself, but no attack came and instead the child launched into the air and clung to the metal rails on the ceiling.

“Uh.” Garth gaped up at the girl with a mixture of surprise and utter confusion “Rob?”

“Yeah?” Dick stood and rushed over to Jason, grabbing him by the arms to check him over for any injuries. He ignored the boys’ noises of complaint and only released his limbs when he was certain his brother was unharmed.

“What are we going to do about the creepy child?”

“That,” Dick sighed for the hundredth time that day “Is a very good question.”

-

In the end, it took Kori floating up to the ceiling and persuading the girl in hushed whispers to return her back to solid ground. In fact, she seemed rather attached to the woman and would only allow her to clean out the cuts on her legs. Luckily, most were surface level and didn’t require bandaging. It was the girls complete silence and lack of understanding most languages that concerned the Titans the most. She recognised the name ‘David Cain’ and, with Jason’s help, they found she could comprehend a few words in Mandarin, Spanish, Russian, and Arabic. They were mostly instructions, such as ‘stay’, ‘follow’ and ‘fight’. All things pointing to an unfortunate childhood.

The decision to take her with them was unanimous and the girl with no name latched onto Kori the entire flight back to Titans Tower.

Unluckily for Jason, with a temporary solution found for his new friend the subject of conversation turned to how on earth he had managed to sneak onto the jet.

“Jason,” Dick warned his brother as he tried to avoid eye contact “Look at me, kiddo.”

“Mhm-mhm.”

The team had split up upon arrival; Garth and Kori escorting a still unconscious David Cain to the Titan Towers boom tube to hand the international criminal off to the Justice League, Dick hanging behind in the hangar to interrogate his little brother.

“Uh-huh, Jay. You know damn well you were supposed to stay here with…” Dick narrowed his eyes and struggled to remain calm “Jason, what happened to Wally.”

Jason smirked.

As if summoned by his name, the speedster skidded into the hangar and almost crashed into a wall as he came to a stop “Rob! I am so sorry man, the kids missing! I swear, I was only out for like an hour, whatever he put in my drink got burned out through my metabolism pretty fast, but I’ve searched this place ten times and I can’t find… him.” His rambling trailed off as Dick stepped to the side, revealing the aforementioned kid, sporting a shit-eating-grin.

“Don’t worry about it, Wally.” He managed a small smile “I should have known he’d find a way to follow us.”

“Oh, thank god.” They crumpled to the floor and clutched at tufts of red hair tightly in his fists. All the panic at loosing the newly-resurrected kid faded away and he practically went boneless.

“Wally?”

“I’m good, just… give me a minute.”

-

The girl had allowed Dick to hold her hand as he guided her to the front door of Wayne Manor. Jason had run ahead and Dick could see the entrance cracked open, warm light almost glowing in the darkness of the evening. He squeezed the girl’s hand gently and gave her a reassuring smile, trying his best not to be discouraged when all she returned was a blank expression. It was going to be fine. If Bruce was allowed to collect random children and bring them into the household on a whim, then he could as well.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” They walked at a slow steady pace up the mountain of stairs “He took me in when I was very young, after I’d lost my parents. He did a similar thing for Jason as well.” At the mention of a familiar name, he caught her attention. Dick continued to speak even though he knew she could only understand a few abstract words.

They reached the front door; Dick guided the girl to remove her borrowed shoes and place on the rack. Taking the girls hand again, they crossed the polished wooden floors and followed the muffled sounds of a deep voice talking. Sure enough, Bruce was in the lounge asking Jason how his day had been.

“If he’s telling you he behaved, I’m honoured to let you know he’s lying.” Dick called out as they entered the room “The troublemaker drugged Wally and snuck onto the jet when no one was looking.”

“Is that so?” Bruce chuckled. He tilted his head to the side, giving the stranger an easy smile “And who is this?”

“Well, we’re not entirely sure. From what we can tell she was kept in the cabin with Cain but she can’t seem to communicate much. I’ve asked Wally to search through missing children reports but since Cain had a habit of travelling, I have no idea where he picked her up. I figured she could stay with us in the meantime?”

Bruce paused and crossed the room to kneel in front of the girl. He maintained eye contact with her in silence and then, after what felt like hours of nothing, smiled. It was a genuine smile, nothing like the ones you would see on the face of ‘Brucie’.

“Cassandra Cain.” His focus remained on the child, ignoring his eldest sons doubletake of surprise “Daughter of David Cain and the Lady Shiva. My name is Bruce Wayne and, if you would allow me to do so, I would like to take you into my care.”

For a short while there was nothing and Dick opened his mouth to say that the girl probably didn’t understand what he was asking her, but he was cut off by the slow nod ‘Cassandra’ gave Bruce.

Bruce stood and offered his arms out to her “Your feet look like they hurt. How about I give you a lift to your new room?”

Cassandra debated the offer before nodding again and allowing herself to be carried, arms clinging around Bruce’s neck as they left the room.

Dick stood in the doorway, watching them move up the grand staircase and out of sight as the reality of his ‘mission’ sunk in.

“Oh, son of a bitch.”