Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I should have known you'd be behind this, Luthor."

"Yes," Luthor scoffed, "you should have."

Dick glared at him, hoping he looked righteously angry and not like his heart was beginning to pound. He hated how nervous Luthor made him, how it made his chest tighten to see him, even just on TV. Seeing him now, while Dick was chained up and immobile and at his mercy…

Well. Dick had been at Lex Luthor's mercy before. It hadn't gone well.

"You won't get away with this," Dick said, aware that he was hitting all of the superhero clichés. He normally liked to be more unique and quippy about his comments, but with Lex still in front of him, he couldn't quite focus. Clichés would have to do.

Luthor just shot him a mildly pitying look. He'd pitied him before too, Dick remembered. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grayson-"

No. No, he wasn't there, and he wasn't going to think about it.

"Did you think Gotham would be an easy target just because Superman isn't here?" Dick continued. "Because we can hold our own without him."

"Can you?" Luthor asked. He patted Dick's cheek condescendingly, and even though his hand wasn't really anywhere near Dick's mouth, it still made Dick's heart rate spike. "You certainly don't seem like you can."

Dick had been taken by surprise, it was true. But he'd also been on the comms with Damian through most of the fight and had been knocked out with him yelling in his ears and calling the others for backup, so everyone would knew what they were walking into. They didn't necessarily know that Luthor was behind it, but with a bit of research, they'd probably figure it out. In retrospect, the clues had all been there, Dick just hadn't been looking closely enough to spot them. Tim or Bruce would probably be able to spot it easily.

"I'm just one of Gotham's heroes," Dick said. "Good luck with the rest of them."

"I won't need luck," Luthor dismissed. "Just like I didn't need it to deal with you. Now, let me make sure you're properly secured."

Dick was, as much as he hated to admit it. He was chained to a metal chair that was bolted to the ground, and the chains were tight enough that he could barely move any of his limbs. They were also tight enough for him to realize that perhaps his time in the Crime Syndicate's Murder Machine had made him a bit claustrophobic. He'd kept thinking of it even before Luthor walked into the room. With Luthor there, he couldn't get it off his mind.

"It does look like you can't move," Luthor reported. "Just one last thing."

Before Dick could pull away, Luthor's hand was over his mouth and Dick's heart was racing. Luthor pulled away after a moment, but the pressure remained, and Dick's mouth was stuck closed. His nose remained uncovered, but it wasn't enough, he couldn't breathe-

"Clever little toy, isn't it?" Luthor asked. "Far more sophisticated than tape or a cloth gag. This traps all sound entirely. You could scream as much as you like, but no one will hear it, not even Superman. And it lets me monitor your vital signs, just in case. Wouldn't want you dying on me before you play your part. They're looking a little frantic right now, aren't they?"

Dick tried to breathe, tried to slow his heart rate, but he could still feel Luthor's fancy little gag on his mouth, and it still felt like someone was pushing down, and-

"And, just for you, I added a little something extra."

A loud, rapid beeping filled the room, one Dick recognized. No, no, nononononono-

"Ciao, Nightwing," Luthor called, waving lazily as he left the room. "Let's see if your family is really as good as you say."

Dick tried desperately to calm his heart rate, to breathe, but this whole situation had been designed to make him feel like he was in the Murder Machine again, and it was working. The inability to move, the beeping of the heart monitor-

-The feeling of Luthor's hand over his mouth, forcing him to swallow the pill and preventing him from breathing-

No. No, he wasn't there. He'd come back from the dead, he'd fought his way through Spyral, he'd come home. The Crime Syndicate was gone. This was just Luthor trying to mess with his head. Dick wasn't going to let him.

He'd be fine. His family would come for him. He just had to wait for them to arrive.

The beating of his heart - loud and echoing through the room and far too fast - made for a poor companion.

By the time Dick heard fighting happening outside, he'd managed to partially calm himself down. The whole situation - and especially the heart monitor - was still enough to keep him from relaxing entirely, but in a way, the heart monitor was also helpful in keeping himself from falling back into the past. As long as his heart rate was still too quick, he knew he wasn't back in the Murder Machine. Back then, he'd heard his heart rate slow, the beeps growing more and more distant until the whole world disappeared. His heart definitely wasn't slowing down now.

The fighting grew louder, and Dick waited and listened, hating how helpless he was. He wished he could break through the chains, but he'd been trying ever since they were locked around him, and he didn't think they were going to give now. He just had to wait for someone to come in and get him.

It was Bruce who burst into the room, of course. For a moment. Dick remembered lifting his head up in the Murder Machine and seeing Bruce run into the room, Selina and Luthor and Bizarro at his heels. He'd known what he was strapped into - Grid had explained it dispassionately as he set it up - and so the sight of Bruce had been equally relieving and terrifying. Relieving because there was always a part of him that thought that Bruce could solve every problem, and terrifying because he'd grown up enough to know that wasn't always true.

But he wasn't strapped to a bomb this time - at least, he didn't think he was strapped to a bomb - so Bruce could get him out.

"Nightwing," Bruce said, his voice full of relief. He rushed to Dick's side and began examining the gag Luthor had stuck to his face. "Are you hurt?"

Dick shook his head. He was a bit roughed up, but he didn't think it was anything serious.

"Do you know how to get this off?" Bruce asked, his fingers ghosting over the gag. "I don't want to hurt you."

Dick whimpered, but as Luthor had promised, the gag absorbed all sound. He shook his head and hoped Bruce could read in his eyes how much he really needed the gag to come off.

Bruce studied him for a long moment, then reached for the corner of the gag. "If this hurts, close your eyes."

It stung a bit as Bruce began pulling at the gag, but not enough that Dick wanted him to stop. Pulling it off his lips burned, but when Bruce paused, Dick managed to force out a half-unintelligible, "Keep going." Jaw set, Bruce did, and once the gag was off entirely, Dick took a gasping breath and finally felt his heart rate relax.

The fact that it was no longer being loudly broadcast throughout the room helped too.

"Nightwing," Bruce said, cupping his jaw in one hand. "Are you alright?"

"I'm…"

And then Dick realized that his heart rate was relaxing too much.

"No," he whispered, "no, no, no-"

"Nightwing? What is it?"

"My heart," Dick breathed, "my heart, it's-"

Bruce was ahead of Dick, as always, and picked up the gag. He took a sample and ran a quick scan, then looked up at Dick.

"It's alright. It's just a mild sedative. It probably isn't even enough to knock you out."

"My heart-" Dick gasped, and he knew his panic should be making his heat race, but it was still going slower and slower, too slowly-

"I have adrenaline," Bruce said, reaching into his belt. "It's alright, Nightwing, you're fine."

"Father?"

No, no, Dick didn't want Damian to see him die. He didn't want him to have to watch, didn't want the moment stuck in his memory-

"Is Nightwing alright?" Damian asked, entering the room. Dick gasped out a sob as his heart grew slower.

"He will be," Bruce promised. "I need you to pick the lock on the chains."

Damian shot Dick one last worried look, then he ducked around behind him to start undoing the chains. Bruce pulled a shot of adrenaline out of his belt and held it up.

"This might not be pleasant, but-"

"Do it," Dick gasped. "Please."

Bruce injected the adrenaline into Dick's thigh through a gap in the chains, and a few moments later, the sensation hit him. Bruce was right, it wasn't pleasant, but Dick could feel his heart kicking into high gear, and the panic was perversely comforting. At least his heart wasn't stopping anymore.

There was a clunking sound from behind him, then Damian popped up. "The chain is unlocked," he reported, beginning the process of unwrapping Dick from the chains. Bruce helped, and soon, Dick was free.

"Nightwing?" Bruce asked cautiously.

Dick flung himself forward, clinging to Bruce as tightly as he could.

"It's alright," Bruce whispered in his ear as he ran a hand through his hair. "You're alright."

"It- It was like-"

"I know," Bruce said, his voice tight and pained. He must have been thinking about the Murder Machine too. The whole situation with the Crime Syndicate had been awful for Dick, but he knew it had been awful for Bruce as well. He'd had to watch too many people die not to know how much it hurt.

"Cops are on their way," Jason called as he sauntered into the room. "Course, Luthor will probably- Shit, Dickwing, are you okay?"

"Nightwing and I are heading back to the Cave," Bruce said. "The rest of you can keep patrolling or come back with us."

"I will be returning to the Cave with you," Damian said immediately.

"Will you tell me what the hell is going on if I don't go to the Cave?" Jason asked.

"Is something wrong?" Tim asked, ducking into the room. "Is Nightwing hurt?"

"'M not hurt," Dick mumbled. It occurred to him that he should probably let go of Bruce, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not quite yet.

"This is not the place to have a debrief," Bruce declared. "If you're planning on coming back to the Cave, then you can follow myself and Nightwing in the Batmobile. If you're going to keep patrolling, be sure to check in with Oracle."

"I'll come back to the Cave," Tim said. "I think we have some loose ends to tie up with this case anyway."

"Then I'll come back too," Jason said. "The girls are patrolling, so they've probably got it covered. And you two are going to tell us what the hell is going on."

"I'll explain," Dick said weakly.

Bruce shot him an alarmed look. "Nightwing-"

"They should know," Dick murmured. "We should tell them."

"Oh, and that's not ominous at all," Jason muttered under his breath.

"Fine. After we return to the Cave, and after Nightwing is medically cleared, we'll explain. For now, we all need to get out of here."

"Okay, but we'll be waiting for our explanation," Jason declared, then he stormed out of the room. Tim followed him, and after one last look, Damian did as well.

"Can you walk?" Bruce asked Dick gently.

"I think so." Dick's limbs felt a bit shaky, but he thought he could manage walking.

"We can take it slow," Bruce said, putting one arm around Dick's waist. Dick slung an arm over Bruce's shoulders and took an unsteady step. He could manage it. He just had to get to the Batmobile.

"Are you sure you want to tell everyone?" Bruce asked as they slowly made their way out of the building.

"They deserve to know," Dick said. "And in case something like this happens again…"

If Bruce hadn't been there tonight, if it had just been Dick's brothers who came to rescue him, they would have had no idea what was wrong, and Dick wouldn't have been able to keep it together long enough to explain. And even with Bruce there, they'd still been frightened. He didn't like the idea of putting this burden on his younger brothers, but they deserved to know.

"Alright," Bruce said. "If you're sure."

"Will you be there?"

Bruce squeezed Dick, just slightly. "I promise."

The trip back to the Cave seemed both torturously long and torturously short. Bruce and Alfred's medical check-up felt much the same. After seconds and an eternity, Dick was cleared and bundled up on the couch, his brothers all watching him expectantly.

"We were promised an explanation," Jason said. "We're waiting."

"Jay," Bruce scolded, "give Dick a moment."

"Hey, you both promised us an explanation," Jason countered. "You could start."

"I can start," Dick said, his voice rasping. Alfred pressed a glass of water into his hands, and Dick took a grateful sip.

"How much did Bruce tell you about everything with the Crime Syndicate?"

Damian's brow furrowed slightly - Dick's stomach twisted at the reminder that Damian had been dead when they attacked - but Jason and Tim placed the name immediately. "The evil Justice League that allegedly killed you?" Tim asked. "Bruce didn't tell us much. Just that they captured you and revealed your identity, which we all saw anyway, and then he broke you out."

"And told all of us that you died instead, cause he's a lying asshole," Jason added bitterly.

Dick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He wasn't lying."

The room went silent. Jason was the one to break it. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"The Crime Syndicate did capture me, and they did reveal my identity," Dick said. He tried his best to disconnect himself from the words, but he couldn't quite manage it. "But they kept me alive. I… don't really know why. I think it was because of Owlman." He'd been awful in an entirely different way from the others, because while Ultraman and Superwoman were simply cruel, Owlman was a bizarre and terrifying combination of cruel and protective. He'd had his own Richard Grayson, he'd explained, and he'd lost him. He didn't intend to lose another one.

And then he'd left Dick with his version of Alfred, and that had been almost worse. Seeing a man with Alfred's face act like that…

"At first, they just kept me tied up in a holding cell," Dick said. "But then, Ultraman decided he wanted me in something more secure. So Grid brought me into a cell that was designed to hold Doomsday, and he put me in-"

Dick's voice faltered. For a moment, the blankets wrapped around him were too tight, and he couldn't move, and he was back-

"They put him in a machine based on Apokoliptian technology," Bruce said, picking up the narrative. He put a hand on Dick's shoulder, a solid tether to reality. "An inescapable trap. They called it the Murder Machine. By the time I reached the Watchtower with Selina and the others, he was already in it."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what does a Murder Machine do?" Tim asked tentatively.

"It was a bomb," Dick said, his voice quiet and hoarse. He'd been quiet back then too. His throat had still been sore from having Superwoman's barbed Lasso of Submission wrapped around it, not to mention all of the screaming he'd done when the Crime Syndicate got bored enough to torture him. "Linked to my heartbeat. The only way to disarm it was-" He swallowed hard, trying to breathe. He'd managed to say this to Bruce back when he was in the bomb, why was it so hard to say it now that he was safe?

"Dick," Bruce murmured. "Do you want me to tell the rest of the story?"

But it was Dick's story, not Bruce's. "I can do it," Dick said. "The only way to disarm the bomb was to stop my heart."

"But you figured out another way, right?" Jason asked. "You tricked it or something?" He whirled on Bruce. "You didn't-"

"Of course he didn't," Dick cut in. "He tried to save me."

"But the bomb didn't go off," Tim said slowly. "If you'd been strapped to a bomb and it went off, you'd have been blown to bits. And if Bruce had been there, so would he. Which means you must have disarmed it somehow."

"You know about how Bruce partnered with some supervillains to defeat the Crime Syndicate, right?" Dick asked. "Black Manta and Captain Cold and Sinestro and-"

"And Luthor, right?" Jason cut in, and Dick flinched. "Oh, shit," Jason whispered, apparently putting together the pieces. "Shit, did he-"

"The only way to disarm the bomb was to stop my heart," Dick said. "So Luthor stopped my heart."

"Luthor stopped your heart," Jason repeated flatly. "He killed you."

"He-" The words caught in Dick's throat, hard and bitter like the little pill Luthor had forced him to swallow. Dick looked over at Bruce, hoping his eyes could relay the message he couldn't speak aloud.

"Luthor and his Superman clone attacked myself and Selina," Bruce said, his voice very, very even. "He forced Dick to swallow a cardioplegia pill and smothered him until his heart stopped."

"And you let that piece of shit live?" Jason demanded, rocketing to his feet. "How many times are you going to let supervillains kill us before you start killing them back?!"

"Luthor also brought me back," Dick said quietly. He hated defending Lex Luthor, of all people, but it was true. "He injected my heart with adrenaline and restarted it. I wasn't dead for long."

Selina hadn't been quite as quiet as she'd thought she was being when she asked Luthor if he'd always intended to bring Dick back or if he'd only done it because of Bruce's reaction. Luthor's response hadn't given confirmation either way, but Dick thought he agreed with him. It didn't matter what Luthor had been intending. He'd brought Dick back.

For Dick's part, he didn't think Luthor would have had any problem leaving him dead, but the important thing was that he hadn't.

"Dead is dead, Dickie," Jason snapped. "I would know. And if Bruce isn't going to kill Luthor for it, I'll go back and put a bullet in his brain."

"Is that why you were afraid?" Damian asked, speaking up for the first time. "Because Lex Luthor took you again?"

"He set things up to remind me of the Murder Machine," Dick said. The immobilizing chains, the gag, the beeping-

"That sadistic asshole-"

"Jason-"

"And why the hell didn't you tell us any of this?" Jason demanded. "Bruce told the whole world you were dead - and we're coming back to that, by the way - and then, when you came back, you told us it had been a lie."

"I didn't say that," Dick replied carefully. "You assumed it."

"You let us assume it!"

"It seemed… easier." Dick hadn't thought there was any reason for them to know. He didn't want to put that weight on his brothers. He still wished he hadn't had to, but after the events of the past night, he'd known he did. "I wasn't dead for long. I didn't stay dead. We did lie to you about that."

"Why didn't you tell us the truth?" Tim asked quietly. "Why didn't you trust us to know what happened?"

"Tim…" Dick whispered helplessly. "I-"

"Lying to you about Dick still being dead was my idea," Bruce cut in.

"That's not what I mean," Tim said flatly. "Why didn't you tell us what happened?"

"I… didn't want you to know," Dick admitted. "I didn't want you to have to know."

"It's obvious," Damian cut in. "Richard was being overprotective, as usual, and thought the knowledge would hurt us."

Can you honestly tell me it isn't hurting you? Dick wanted to ask, but he didn't. He could see the pain on his brothers' faces easily enough without asking.

"What would it have changed, if you knew?" he asked instead. "It happened. It's over. By the time I saw you again afterwards, it had been months. What was the point of dredging it up again?"

"Then let's talk about the fact that we didn't see you for months," Jason said tightly. "What the hell was all that about?"

"It was my idea," Bruce repeated. "I talked Dick into it."

"And why the hell didn't you tell us?" Jason demanded. "Did you think we would spill the secret? Did you think we were that dumb?"

"The mission was dangerous," Bruce said stubbornly. "If anyone had found out that the truth, Dick could have died."

"Yeah, but what about letting him have backup?" Jason retorted. "What the hell did he do while you were missing and amnesiac?"

"That's not Bruce's fault," Dick protested weakly, trying not to remember the desperate messages he'd left for Bruce during that time. He'd needed to hear a friendly voice so badly, and he'd begged Bruce to let him come home. He hadn't known, of course, that Bruce wasn't listening to the messages at all.

"Shut up, Dick, I'm not happy with you either," Jason snapped. "You could have told us. You don't actually have to do everything Bruce orders you to do."

"Someone needed to investigate Spyral, and I was in the perfect position to do it," Dick said, keeping his voice steady with great effort. "And Bruce is right. The mission was dangerous. Every additional person who knew I was alive was an additional risk."

Jason jerked backwards like Dick slapped him. "What, so we're risks now?"

"You are deliberately misinterpreting Richard's words," Damian snapped, and Dick was filled with a rush of affection for his youngest brother. At least someone was on his side. "Do you not understand the concept of an undercover mission, Todd?"

"Look, brat-"

"Enough," Alfred said, and his voice cut through everything in an instant. He stepped forward, and Dick wished he could read his expression. "This arguing is not helping anyone."

"We should have known," Tim said. "We're a family. We don't lie to each other."

Jason scoffed. "That's all this family does, Timbo."

"Then we should be better," Tim retorted. "We shouldn't lie to each other."

Dick rubbed at his eyes, both to push back tears and to fight off exhaustion. "I won't apologize for trying to keep my cover on an undercover mission." Did they not understand how awful it had been for him in Spyral? He'd hated every moment of it, but he'd known the work was essential. An organization like Spyral was a threat to everyone he loved. They threatened to unmask the entire superhero community.

Dick had already been unmasked. He was the perfect person to send in, and he'd known that from the beginning, but that didn't change the fact that it was awful.

"But you came back and told us you were alive," Jason retorted. "It couldn't have been that dangerous if you told us yourself."

"Are you an imbecile?" Damian demanded. "When Richard told us what was happening, it was because he had deemed it safe. He did not tell us before because it was not safe."

"I thought the mission was over," Dick admitted. "I thought I could-"

I thought I could come home.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was truly free of Spyral even now. They had the resources to keep an eye on him, and while he thought they'd removed all of the trackers and tech they'd implanted in him, he couldn't be entirely sure. Every scan he'd done had come up negative, but what if they'd done something that couldn't be picked up by his scans? He wouldn't put it past them.

"It's late," Bruce said suddenly, "and we've had a long night. We can continue this conversation in the morning, but for now, we should all get some rest."

"I agree with Master Bruce," Alfred added, which forestalled Jason and Tim's inevitable protests. "This has been quite enough excitement for one day."

"But we will be continuing this conversation in the morning," Jason said, jabbing a finger at Bruce. "I still have questions."

Bruce nodded, and Jason stormed out of the room. Tim shot Dick and Bruce one last look, then he hurried out after him. Dick curled in on himself, pressing his forehead against his knees.

"They are fools," Damian declared. "They will come to their senses eventually."

"They have the right to be mad," Dick mumbled.

"They are fools," Damian repeated, and he sat down next to Dick on the couch. "They should be glad that you are alive. That should be enough."

Dick hadn't even known that Damian was back until he returned to Gotham. He'd purposefully cut himself off from all news about Gotham, unable to bear it. Coming back and seeing him…

He'd been glad that Damian was alive, and that was more than enough.

"Chum," Bruce said quietly, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder, "you should get some sleep."

Dick shuddered. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep at all, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without nightmares.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?" Bruce asked, like he used to when Dick was newly orphaned and having nightmares every other night.

"I will join as well," Damian declared. "To keep guard."

"You don't have to," Dick protested. Even with the two of them there, he doubted he'd get any restful sleep, and he'd probably just keep them from being able to sleep either.

"Would a sleep aid be of any help?" Alfred asked, and he wasn't even able to fully finish the sentence before Dick half-yelled, "No!"

"Luthor sedated Dick earlier," Bruce explained, while Dick wrestled himself back under control.

"Sorry," Dick said, offering Alfred his best attempt at a smile. "Thanks for the offer, but that's just… not going to help tonight."

"I understand," Alfred said. Gently, he put a hand on Dick's shoulder, the one Bruce didn't already have a hand on. "I am so sorry for what happened to you, Master Dick, but I am very glad that we got you back."

"Thanks, Alfie," Dick said, his smile becoming a bit more real. "I'm glad to be back."

"I shall do my best to make sure that no one disturbs you in the morning," Alfred promised, which Dick knew meant that no one would be disturbing them at all.

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce said. "Come on, Dick, let's go up to bed."

Dick uncurled himself slowly and stood. Bruce put a hand on his back as they started slowly upstairs, and Damian walked at his other side. Dick didn't think he would be able to sleep, and he hated to think that he would keep them from sleeping as well, but he was relieved not to be alone. He'd hated waking up alone in that coldly impersonal room every morning with Spyral, and although his room in the Manor wasn't cold or impersonal at all, he knew what his mind would jump to when he first woke up, especially if the house was quiet.

They reached Bruce's bedroom quickly, and Bruce herded Dick into the middle of his massive bed. Dick hesitated before climbing in. Being in the middle meant he could have his father on one side and his little brother on the other, which was optimal for cuddling and comfort, but it also meant that he wouldn't have an easy way out of the bed. He hoped that wouldn't set off a panic response.

Bruce lay down on one side, and Damian curled up on the other. Dick lay on his back in between them and stared at the ceiling.

"Is there anything you need, chum?" Bruce asked as he reached to turn off the bedside lamp.

"I don't think so," Dick said. "Um. I need to be able to move. If I'm pinned down or tangled up in the blankets or something-"

He'd woken up in a panic a few times before, thanks to his blankets having twisted their way around him as he tossed and turned until they'd practically become a straightjacket. When he woke unable to move, his mind always jumped straight to the worst case scenario. He assumed it would go the same way if he were pinned down, although he hadn't tested that.

"We'll make sure you're free to move," Bruce promised. Damian scooted a little further away from him, but Dick reached an arm out around him before he could go too far.

"It's okay if you're next to me, Dami. That's actually nice. Just as long as you're not on top of me, okay?"

"Very well," Damian agreed stiffly. "If you need something, you will wake one of us."

"I'll be fine," Dick said instead, because he absolutely wouldn't.

Damian scowled. "If you need something," he repeated, "you will wake one of us."

"Dami-"

"Boys," Bruce cut in, "let's just get some sleep, alright? Dick, lights on or off?"

"Off is fine," Dick replied. When he was little, sometimes he'd asked Bruce to keep the lights on when he had nightmares, afraid of what might be lurking in the dark. He wasn't afraid of that anymore. He knew what was there, and he knew there were many things that were scarier.

Bruce turned off the bedside lamp, and the room plunged into near-total darkness. Dick let out a slow breath and closed his eyes.

He was exhausted. Maybe he'd actually manage to get some sleep. Maybe, with Bruce and Damian at his sides, he'd feel safe enough that he wouldn't even have nightmares.

It was a nice hope. He doubted it would come true.

Dick finally gave up on sleep at about five o'clock in the morning. He'd woken from six nightmares already - and woken Bruce and/or Damian with four of them - and he was on edge enough that he knew another nightmare would hit him if he went back to sleep. It would be easier to just get up.

Luckily, his latest nightmare hadn't woken Bruce or Damian, and neither of them so much as twitched when Dick crawled out of bed and left the room. They were both exhausted, and Dick couldn't help but blame himself for that, at least partially. They would have had a much better night's sleep if he hadn't woken them up repeatedly.

But they could sleep now, and Dick could do his best to remind himself of what was and wasn't real.

He went down to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. He normally tried not to drink that much coffee, but he knew he'd need it for today. Sometimes, it would make him jittery and anxious, but he was exhausted enough that he didn't think it would do anything but wake him up. If it did make him anxious, he wasn't even sure he'd notice beyond the anxiety that was already thrumming in his veins.

And he was going to blame that anxiety for the way he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice behind him said, "Can't sleep?"

"Tim," Dick gasped. "Uh, yeah, I can't sleep. You?"

Tim just shrugged. "Is there enough coffee for two?"

"Maybe not with the way you drink it," Dick joked halfheartedly. Judging by the look on Tim's face, the joke didn't land. "But there should be enough for two cups."

Tim nodded and sat down at the table. Dick stayed standing by the coffee maker. He wasn't sure how Tim would take him sitting down with him, and he didn't think he could take being rejected over it right now. It was best not to put himself in that situation at all.

The kitchen was silent but for the sound of the coffee machine quietly humming. Dick resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the countertop.

"I get it," Tim said suddenly. "I get why you didn't want to talk about… everything. And I get why you were safer in Spyral without us knowing. But the whole thing still really, really sucks."

Dick can't help but laugh a little at that. "It does suck, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry about what I said when we first found out you were alive," Tim added, a bit sheepishly. "If I'd known…"

"You didn't know. You couldn't have. I didn't tell you."

"Yeah, but I should have trusted that you wouldn't lie to us without a good reason. You never do."

"God, I…" Dick shook his head helplessly. "I missed you guys so much when I was with Spyral."

"We missed you too," Tim said. "We… We shouldn't have just accepted that you were gone. I mean, Jason died and came back. Damian died and came back. Bruce died and came back twice. We should have figured you could die and come back too."

"It's okay, Tim."

"Bruce was just… He wouldn't even let us talk about you. And he refused to give us any details on how you died, and he just kept telling us we didn't want to know, so…" Tim shrugged. "I figured he was too late. That he got to the Crime Syndicate and they'd already tortured you to death or something. Considering how vehement he was that he wouldn't talk about it, I figured it had to be pretty bad."

The Crime Syndicate didn't torture him to death. They got pretty damn close. Owlman kept him alive, but he didn't seem to have any real interest in keeping him undamaged. Maybe he'd thought it would be easier to break him if he'd already gone through hours of torture. Maybe he just didn't care. Maybe-

"Dick?" Tim said gently. "The coffee's done."

The coffee machine was indeed beeping at Dick, letting him know it was finished. "Right," Dick said, getting out two mugs. He poured one up almost all the way to the rim and set it down in front of Tim, then he prepared his preferred mix of coffee, milk, and sugar in the other mug. He dared to sit down at the table with Tim, gambling on the lack of a negative reaction, and was relieved that Tim didn't even mention it.

He did, however, mention something else Dick didn't want to think about.

"They did torture you, didn't they?"

Dick's grip tightened on his mug. "Yeah. They did."

"I saw the broadcast where they revealed your identity," Tim said. "You looked…"

Dick hardly remembered that broadcast. He'd been wrapped up in that awful barbed lasso, and he'd only been partially conscious. And that had been early on in the whole affair. Owlman and Superwoman had beaten him outside Arkham, and Superwoman had taken a sadistic level of glee in using her lasso on him, but none of the other had laid hands on him yet. If Tim thought he looked bad then…

"It was a pretty shitty couple of days," Dick said, which was so great an understatement it was nearly a lie. To his confusion, the words made Tim scowl.

"I'm not a little kid. You don't need to hide things from me because you think they're too much for me to handle. I'm seventeen, Dick. I'm almost twice as old as you were when you started as Robin. I don't need you to protect me from stuff like this anymore."

Dick let out a long breath. "I know," he whispered into his coffee. "I know you don't. I know you're grown up, and you've become your own vigilante now, and hearing about awful things won't break you. But I'm your older brother, Tim. I'm always going to want to protect you."

"I get it, but I think it's a little late to protect me from this stuff now," Tim countered. "I can put two and two together."

Perhaps he could, but it was a different thing entirely for Dick to tell his little brother all about the awful things that the Crime Syndicate did to him. Perhaps Tim had some ideas, but that didn't mean he knew everything. There were some things Dick didn't want anyone else knowing, and if he did have to tell someone, he didn't want it to be one of his little brothers.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Dick asked quietly. "That they tortured me? Yeah, they tortured me. And they looked like our friends and family, and that made it worse. I'm not telling you the details of what they did, and it's not because I'm trying to protect you, it's because I don't want to think about it."

Tim looked a bit pale as he sipped his coffee. "Shit. I'm sorry, Dick."

Dick wrapped both hands around his mug tightly. "Is there… Is there anything else you want to know?"

"Not if you don't want to talk about it."

"So yeah, there is more you want to know."

"I'm just…" Tim looked away. "How did Bruce convince you to go to Spyral?"

"He didn't force me, if that's what you're asking," Dick replied. "I… I didn't like the idea, but after he explained everything to me, I understood that it was vital. And hey, I got my secret identity back thanks to Spyral, so all's well that ends well."

"Dick."

Dick sighed. "Spyral was… also pretty shitty. And I missed you guys so much."

"Did they hurt you? There?"

Dick remembered how a single word could send him into seizures, how Tiger had betrayed him at the end. His first instinct was to lie, but he was pretty sure Tim would be able to tell.

"Sometimes. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. And I met some good people too. I probably wouldn't have met Midnighter if not for Spyral. And Helena wasn't too bad."

"Did either of them hurt you?"

"I mean, Midnighter and I definitely fought a few times before we realized we both wanted the same things. He didn't really like Spyral much either."

Dick didn't say anything about Helena. He didn't want to lie to Tim, but he also didn't want to tell him the truth. Before Tim could say anything, Dick added, "I don't really want to talk about Spyral right now. Can we talk about something nicer instead? Let's pretend for a moment that our lives aren't… how they are. Let's talk about something normal."

"Like what?"

Dick shrugs. "How's work?"

Tim made a face. "The board of directors is as annoying as always. I'm starting to think I should ask Bruce to take over a few meetings in full Brucie mode so they'll be relieved when I come back and stop being so obnoxious."

"Competent cop, incompetent cop?" Dick asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I know it can be a nightmare, but you do such a good job with all of it," Dick said with a small smile. "I couldn't do half of what you do."

Tim's cheeks went faintly pink and he ducked his head. "You could, if you had to."

"Okay, I might be able to manage, but I wouldn't be able to do it as well as you. Wayne Enterprises is thriving more than ever, and that's thanks to your leadership."

Tim's cheeks grew pinker. "It's no big deal."

"You're going to take the compliment if it kills you," Dick says. "Which it won't, by the way."

Tim smiled, just a little. "Okay. Thanks."

Dick reached out to tousle Tim's hair. "See, was that really so hard?"

Tim batted Dick's hand away from him. "You're the worst."

"Big brother's prerogative, I'm afraid. It's my god-given duty to embarrass you."

"Ugh."

"Worrying about your sleep schedule is also a big brother's prerogative. When was the last time you slept?"

"I did sleep a bit," Tim protested. "And I've already had most of this cup of coffee, so I won't be able to fall back asleep any time soon anyway. I-"

Before Tim could continue, there was a crash from upstairs, and both Dick and Tim were on their feet and halfway to the stairs in an instant. They burst into the hallway at the same time as Bruce, who looked up at Dick with wide, panicked eyes before relaxing.

"Father?" Damian asked, poking his head out of the bedroom. "Richard? What happened?"

Doors were opening all down the hall, but Bruce hardly seemed to notice; he just strode up to Dick and pulled him into a tight hug. Dick squeaked in surprise as the air was forced from his lungs, then wrapped his arms around Bruce.

"Nightmare?"

"And then you weren't in the bed when I woke," Bruce confirmed in a low voice.

"Shit, B, I'm sorry." Dick hadn't even thought about Bruce having nightmares, although he should have. Dick was the one who'd died in the Murder Machine, but Bruce was the one who'd had to watch. They'd both dredged up trauma that night.

A small hand took Dick's, and Damian guided both him and Bruce back into the bedroom. Dick caught a glimpse of Tim walking down the hall, quietly telling everyone that it was a false alarm, then he and Bruce were back in the bedroom. Bruce finally let go of Dick, although he didn't go too far.

"I left because I didn't want to wake you guys up again with another nightmare," Dick admitted with a humorless chuckle. "I guess that didn't work."

"You should both go back to sleep," Damian declared. "Neither of you have had a sufficient amount."

"I don't think I'm going to fall asleep," Dick admitted. "Between the nightmares and the coffee I had downstairs, I'm pretty sure I'm up."

"Then you can remain here and rest while we sleep," Damian said. "Both of you, back into the bed."

"Bossy baby bat," Dick teased gently, tousling Damian's hair.

Damian scowled at him. "I'm the least emotionally compromised in the room. Neither of you are thinking clearly, which leaves me to be in charge."

"If none of us could be in charge while emotionally compromised, we'd never get anything done," Dick said dryly.

"Damian isn't incorrect in his assessment," Bruce countered. "Even if you can't sleep, your body needs rest."

"I'll see," Dick said, eyeing the bed with trepidation. He didn't think he could just lie there alone with his thoughts, not with the directions his mind was going. "But if I can't rest, I'll just do yoga on the carpet or something. I'll stay in the room."

"Acceptable," Damian proclaimed. "For now, into the bed."

"And just so you know, there's a yoga mat in the closet," Bruce added as he got into bed.

"Good to know," Dick replied, getting back in his position in the middle. He wasn't sure it made sense for him to be there, since he thought it was more likely than not that he'd get up soon, but he was pretty sure the argument about placements wouldn't be worth it.

Damian curled up next to him, as close as he could get without being on top of Dick. Dick ran a hand through his hair. He'd thought Damian would be the least affected by the night's revelations, since he'd been dead when Dick died, but he'd clearly still been shaken. He probably wouldn't admit it, but Dick could tell. He dared to press a kiss to the top of Damian's head and was rewarded with an annoyed "tt" and a kick to the shin. He smiled as he lay back on the pillows. If Damian had actually been annoyed, there would have at least been the threat of a knife. From Damian, the kick was practically a kiss in return.

"Go to sleep, Richard," Damian grumbled. "Or at least stop messing with me so I can sleep."

"Okay, kiddo," Dick whispered. "Goodnight."

Damian just made another grumbling noise and burrowed closer to Dick's side. On Dick's other side, Bruce was lying down and had his eyes closed, but clearly wasn't asleep yet. Dick reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, and Bruce's lips twitched up slightly.

"Night, B."

"Night, chum."

Maybe Dick wouldn't be able to sleep - he really doubted he'd be able to sleep - but at least he didn't have to be alone. Maybe lying here wouldn't be too bad after all.

At half past eight, after absolutely no sleep, an hour of yoga, and a lot of aimless scrolling on his phone, Dick heard a quiet knock on the door. He got up and crossed to the door, cracking it open.

"Oh. Good morning, Jay."

Jason shifted his weight from leg to leg, looking awkward even though he'd been the one to knock. "Hey."

"B and Damian are still sleeping," Dick offered after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Do you, uh, need something from one of us?"

"I talked with Tim," Jason said. "And then the girls came in, and then Duke did too, and… Anyway, we all talked, and now I could really use to talk to you."

Dick shot a glance behind him at Bruce and Damian, still asleep. "I promised I'd stay in here. If B has another nightmare and I'm gone again…"

"We can talk in here," Jason offered.

"Without waking them?" Dick asked, which he hoped Jason knew meant, Without yelling?

"We can go in the hall if we have to."

Dick ran a quick mental calculation. Jason seemed calm enough, and Dick did want to talk to him. This could end poorly, but he was willing to risk it.

"Okay. Come on in."

Jason entered the room and sat down on the floor as far away from the bed as he could get. Dick sat down next to him, resisting the urge to hug his knees to his chest.

"So, what did you need to talk about?"

Jason gave him a look. "I'm pretty sure you know what I want to talk about."

Dick shrugged. "I mean, generally, yeah, but I'm not sure which part of the whole thing you want to talk about."

Jason let out a long sigh. "You should have told me that you actually died."

"Jason-"

"I've died," Jason said, an edge in his voice. "I've been dead. I know- Shit, Dick, I know how much that messes you up. We could have talked about it. I could have helped."

"I handled-"

"If you tell me that you handled it on your own, I swear to god, I'll punch you in your stupid face," Jason said flatly. "Maybe you did, but you didn't have to. I could have helped."

Dick wanted to force a teasing smile, to deflect with an, "Aww, I knew you loved me," and an overdramatic hug, to deftly direct Jason away from the topic. He had a feeling that would get him punched in the face too, though, so he didn't.

"It's like Damian said," he admitted. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't think there was any reason to burden you with that if I didn't have to."

Jason gave him a dry look. "If this were any of the rest of us, literally any of the rest of us, you'd be the first person to tell us that we didn't have to bottle things up."

Dick shrugged. "Do as I say, not as I do?"

"Dick."

"I'm your big brother, Jay," Dick said helplessly. "I'm supposed to be there for you if you need someone. That's my job. You're my Little Wing, I'm not supposed to be the one burdening you."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jason retorted. "You wouldn't say I was burdening you if I needed something, so why the hell are you burdening me if you need something?"

"I didn't want to hurt you," Dick said again. "I knew this would hurt you."

"Of course it's hurting me!" Jason hissed, clearly only just barely managing to keep his voice quiet. "But you know what else hurt? Thinking my brother was dead for months, and then thinking he'd lied to me instead."

"You're still mad I didn't tell you about Spyral."

"No, I get it," Jason said, although he certainly looked annoyed. "I don't like it, but I get it. You were working with a super-spy organization, and you wanted to minimize the risk that your cover would be blown. That's fine. And stop trying to change the topic. I want to know why you thought lying to me was the best option."

"I already told you," Dick replied, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. "Maybe you don't like my reasoning, but-"

"I yelled at you about it!" Jason interrupted. Dick shushed him automatically, looking over at the bed. Bruce shifted slightly, but didn't wake up, so Dick refocused on Jason, whose hands were clenched in fists so tight they looked painful.

"I made comments and jokes, and I punched you over it. If I had known…"

"That's on me, not on you," Dick replied quietly. "There was no way you could have known without me telling you, and I made the decision not to tell you."

"It- Shit. You're making me talk about feelings, you bastard."

"You started the conversation," Dick countered.

"It's still your fault." Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. "When you didn't tell me, it made me feel… Ugh, I hate saying this."

"Jay-"

"It made me feel like you don't trust me," Jason pushed out in a rush. "Or you think I couldn't handle it, like I'm weak or something."

"Jay," Dick whispered, feeling his heart clench. "Jay, no, that's not it at all. I do trust you. I would trust you with my life. I have trusted you with my life. And I don't think you're weak, I think you're one of the strongest people I know. I…" Jason had dug deep and shared an uncomfortable truth, so Dick would do the same. "I know you all think I'm overprotective, but I've failed all of you, so badly. You and Damian and Cass have all died, and Steph and Tim and Duke have come close, and I haven't been able to protect you. So when I do have a chance to protect you from something, I'm always going to take it. I know I'm not always a good brother, but this is something I can do."

Jason stared at him for a moment, then he ducked his head and wiped furiously at his eyes. "Screw you, asshole, you made me cry."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm holding on by a thread right now," Dick offered.

"That's nothing special, you're always holding on by a thread."

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on, you've been about five seconds from a mental breakdown the entire time I've known you," Jason dismissed. "All that repression isn't healthy, Big Bird."

It had been a long time since Jason had used that nickname. Dick hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"Hey, I learned from a guy who decided the best way to deal with trauma was to dress up in a bat suit and punch criminals," he said, valiantly trying to keep his voice steady. "B's not exactly the king of healthy coping mechanisms."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, no one's ever going to call him that. Not that most of us are much better."

"Yeah, but that's B's fault, not ours."

That dragged an actual laugh out of Jason, if a bit of a watery one. He looked up at Dick and punched him lightly in the shoulder, which had always been one of Jason's preferred ways of showing affection.

"Any other massive things you've been keeping from me? You look shitty enough right now that I don't think I'd even punch you for it."

"Nothing I can think of," Dick replied. It was a lie, of course, but it was one he was going to stick to.

Given the way Jason rolled his eyes, Dick was pretty sure he could tell, but he didn't push. "Fine, whatever. You don't need to tell me stuff you don't want to. But if you do want to tell people about things, you can, you know, talk to me."

"I know," Dick promised. "And I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't trust you. I do trust you. I always have."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Uh, pretty sure not always."

"Well, depends on what I'm trusting you with," Dick allowed. "But I love you, Little Wing. Always have, always will."

"You're a sap," Jason said flatly, but Dick knew his brother well enough to hear what he wasn't saying. "I'm gonna go, all this talking about emotions is giving me hives. If you need me, I'll probably be in the library."

"Okay," Dick agreed easily, just glad Jason wasn't planning on leaving the Manor altogether. "By the way, have you seen Alfie this morning? He hasn't come in to say anything about breakfast, and the way he was talking last night kinda made me think he'd be outside the room with a shotgun and not letting anyone in, so I'm kinda surprised you're here."

"Oh, I had to clear it with Alfie before I could come in," Jason confirmed. "He's set up a whole breakfast spread downstairs and made it buffet style. I think everyone but you three has already eaten. I also think he's probably stress cooking, because he made six different flavors of pancakes, and four different types of eggs, and three different smoothies, and-"

"Okay, I get the picture," Dick interrupted. "B and Dami will probably wake up soon, then we'll go down. Hopefully that'll calm Alfred down."

"Alfie didn't know anything, did he?" Jason asked. "About you being alive or you actually dying or… you know, all of it?"

"He didn't," Dick confirmed. He'd wanted to tell Alfred the truth about going undercover with Spyral - had argued with Bruce about it for a good twenty minutes - but in the end, they'd decided that even telling Alfred might be an unnecessary risk. In retrospect, Dick really wished he'd done it anyway. It would have helped a lot during the whole amnesia mess.

"I bet he was glad to see you, then."

Dick remembered the way Alfred looked when he knocked on the door, the way his hand had flown to his mouth and his eyes had glistened with tears. "I was glad to see him too. The food at Spyral was nowhere near as good as Alfie's cooking."

Jason gave him a look. "I know Tim already talked to you about this, but you don't always have to deflect with jokes and shit. We're not gonna break because we find out you went through something shitty. We've all gone through shitty things, and we all know that you've gone through shitty things. You don't have to keep it from us like we're little kids."

"You may not be a little kid, but you'll always be my Little Wing," Dick teased. Jason rolled his eyes, and Dick continued, "I'll work on it. I… still probably won't tell you guys everything, because there's some stuff I don't want to share with anyone, but I'll try to stop being so overprotective about it."

"Dick Grayson, not being overprotective?" Jason drawled. "I never thought I'd live to see the day. Oh, wait, I didn't."

"Hey, I wasn't as bad with you when you were Robin," Dick countered. "I mean, I was also eighteen and kind of a disaster, but…"

"Yeah, and then I died, and from how Tim tells it, you and Bruce barely let him breathe without freaking out."

It's a bit of an exaggeration, but not much of one. For a long time after Tim started as Robin, Dick was terrified every time Tim was out of his sight, whether he was in costume or not. Jason had died in costume, after all, but he'd run away out of it. Or so Dick had been told; he didn't know for sure, because he hadn't even been on the planet.

When Tim was first Robin, Dick didn't go on any missions with the Titans in space. He was terrified of what could be gone when he got back.

"I thought you were trying to avoid getting hives from talking about emotions," Dick said, hoping Jason would see it for the request it was. He'd had an awful enough time recently without thinking back to those days right after his brother died. He'd already dredged up more bad memories than he'd ever wanted to.

"Fair enough," Jason agreed, thankfully going along with it without a fight. "I'll be in the library if you need me. Uh, before I go, do you… want a hug?"

It wasn't often that Dick's siblings were the ones asking him that question instead of the other way around. Jason looked a bit awkward, but it seemed to be stemming more from embarrassment than discomfort, so Dick smiled and opened his arms.

"I'd love one."

Jason was almost as big as Bruce, and just like Bruce, he could make you disappear into the safest hug in the world if he wanted to. Normally, Dick was the one doing more of the holding, but this time, he let Jason hold him. It was nice, sometimes, to be held.

"I am glad you came back," Jason whispered into his ear.

Dick gave Jason a squeeze. "So am I."

By the time Bruce and Damian woke up, Dick was a bit worried there wouldn't be much left for breakfast. He underestimated Alfred's stress cooking; the breakfast buffet was still full. "Good morning," Alfred greeted as he set out a new platter of pancakes. "I hope you all slept well."

Bruce grunted, reaching the coffee. Dick hid a grin. Bruce normally wasn't ready for human language in the mornings until he'd had at least one cup of coffee.

"Well enough, Pennyworth," Damian said, picking up a plate and taking some pancakes.

"And you, Master Dick?" Alfred asked.

Dick stepped around the makeshift buffet table and pulled Alfred in for a quick hug. "I love you, Alfie."

Alfred patted his cheek. "And I you, dear boy, but that didn't answer my question. Can I assume you slept poorly, given that I found your favorite mug half full of coffee in the kitchen?"

"I've definitely slept better, but I've also slept worse," Dick replied, picking up a plate and loading up his own breakfast. He didn't think he was imagining the relief across the room; his appetite was always the first thing that took a nosedive when he was really upset. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet, no. I've been cooking."

"Will you eat with us?" Dick asked. Alfred normally didn't eat with them, but he had sometimes when Dick was little, and Dick missed it.

"If you wish it," Alfred allowed.

Dick beamed and handed him a plate.

"Have the others already eaten?" Damian asked as he took his seat.

"Indeed," Alfred agreed. "Everyone has been in and out all morning. Speaking of which, Master Dick, did Master Jason speak with you?"

"You talked with Jason?" Bruce asked, refilling his mug and putting together a plate of food.

"Yeah, it was a good talk," Dick replied. "I talked to Tim too, and that one went well too."

"Good," Bruce grunted, going back to his coffee and breakfast.

"Have Cain, Brown, and Thomas been informed of last night's events?" Damian asked.

"Jason mentioned something about a big conversation with everyone, so probably," Dick replied. He hoped they'd been brought up to speed; he didn't think he could explain the whole thing again.

"Indeed," Alfred agreed. "There was a great deal of discussion about matters over breakfast. As an aside, I believe everyone will be conspiring to make Mr. Luthor's life, as Master Jason called it, a living hell. Master Tim already had quite a few ideas."

"I will join them," Damian said with a nod.

"You guys don't have to do that," Dick tried, but he knew he'd be ignored.

Damian sniffed. "Luthor deserves it. Legally, we will most likely not be able to make anything stick, which means we must take matters into our own hands."

Dick looked over at Bruce, but he didn't say anything to dissuade his children's apparent revenge plans. "Just be careful," Dick warned. "But honestly… I did throw a mug of hot coffee at him once, and it did feel good." No one seemed particularly upset, but Dick added in his own defense anyway, "He was trying to get his hands on Kryptonite that I'd found when I was with Spyral, so I had to stop him somehow."

"You encountered Luthor when you were with Spyral?" Bruce asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Just once," Dick replied. "Or, uh, sort of twice? Once face-to-face, and then Clark and I had to call him up a second time when we were working together. But it was the face-to-face time when I threw coffee at him."

"Did it leave permanent burns?" Damian asked.

"Nah, wasn't hot enough."

"Pity."

"You know that no Wayne Industries-affiliated organizations ever work with Lexcorp-affiliated organizations, don't you?" Bruce asked. "We didn't do much business with them anyway, but after everything, I weeded through all of our partners and made sure we weren't working with them at all. Tim and Lucius have kept that up."

"I know," Dick said with a soft smile. "Have Clark or Lois written any good Lexcorp exposés recently? Those always cheer me up."

"Lois is working on one now," Bruce reported.

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Was she working on this before last night, or did you let Clark know about what happened and he told Lois and then she got lost in a haze of journalistic fury?"

"A rather specific scenario," Alfred remarked.

"Yeah, it's happened before," Dick dismissed. "A lot. Lois writes her best articles when she's really, really mad."

"I think Lois was already working on the article, but I did tell Clark what happened," Bruce replied. "Also, they'd both like you to visit sometime soon."

"I will be visiting with Jon this weekend," Damian said. "You can come with me."

"Sounds like a plan," Dick said with a grin, reaching out to tousle Damian's hair. Damian stabbed at him with his fork.

"Stop antagonizing your brother," Bruce groaned, which was probably meant for both of them.

"It's not antagonizing, it's showing affection," Dick corrected. "And it's definitely not worthy of an attempted stabbing."

"Be grateful I only used the fork," Damian grumbled.

"Have kids, they said," Bruce muttered. "It'll be fun, they said."

Dick laughed, grateful for the only somewhat tentative normalcy at the table. It definitely wasn't completely normal, but it wasn't too far off. It was better than the tension that had been there last night. Dick didn't want to ever deal with that again.

He probably would, he knew. There would be other tense, traumatic moments, and his family would find out about them, and sometimes, it would hurt. But he knew his family would always have his back, just like he would always have theirs, and that was the important part. When push came to shove, if he needed them, they would be there. And that, he thought, was worth all the tension in the world.

I love you, he thought but didn't say, and he knew the others loved him too.