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Chapter Text

1664 Words

Nightwing’s boots slid across the concrete as he continued to flip from roof to roof. The rain beat down on his back as water trickled down the bridge of his nose. Batman’s shadow was just behind him, keeping up with much less grace.

Patrol that night had been relatively uneventful (aside from regular muggings, as it was Gotham after all). Nightwing was feeling restless and antsy, something that jumping from roof to roof couldn’t fix. He always had a certain need to be in constant movement. He was grateful that nothing bad was happening, but he was bored out of his mind.

Deciding he needed something to do, Nightwing decided to check up on a lead in a case he was working on with a certain shifty magician.

He slid to a stop on the roof of a pie shop and waited for Batman to land beside him. With the splash of a well-placed puddle, Batman landed and gave an approving grunt, signaling for Nightwing to say his piece.

“The night’s quiet, so I’m gonna follow a lead to the magician case I’m working. With any luck, I’ll find my lucky rabbit.”

“Hn.”

“Don’t follow the lead or find a better joke?” Nightwing responded cheekily.

“Where?”

“In Kansas and down the yellow brick road.”

“Nightwing.”

“There was a break-in in a warehouse by the Docks. Witnesses mentioned seeing a magic user with a similar uniform to the one I’m tracking.”

A pause.

“That lead will most likely turn out to be a dead end. It’d be more efficient to just finish patrol with me first.”

Cass was off the grid again, so Batman was going through another “overprotective parent” episode he developed after Damian had died. He understood why Batman was being overbearing, but Nightwing had been dealing with it for a week now with no breaks. He valued closeness with his family, of course, but also he valued his independence.

Not that the rest of his family wanted to be close with him. Not after Spyral.

“B, you’re the one who’s always saying to leave no stone unturned. Nothing big's happening tonight, so I’ll just go check it out real quick, no biggie.”

Before Nightwing could reach for his grapple, Batman grunted again, “You will have time to follow your lead after patrol.”

Nightwing paused for a moment before jumping off the roof anyways and grappling towards his destination. Just before Batman could lecture him over comms, he flipped them off and quickly made his way to the docks.

Swinging through the Gotham night air freed Nightwing in a way that nothing else could. Sure, the smog burned his nostrils and the city was the only thing providing light due to the overcast, but with every flip Nightwing gained more momentum and got closer to the stars with every swing.

The stars peeking through the clouds brought him back to a couple of years ago when he and his brothers would travel like this together. He had to slow down for them to keep up, sure, but it was well worth it to be able to teach them different flips. Tim was always starstruck, Jason would call him a show-off, and Damian would deem the extra flips unnecessary.

After Damian had died, everyone had taken a strange sort of break from each other. Everyone had their own way of grieving and, unfortunately, the Bat Family grieved by distancing and throwing themselves into work until their bodies gave out on them. Though Nightwing usually has the healthiest mental state out of anyone in the family, he too falls victim to the spiraling.

Speaking of Spyral.

There was pretty much no way any of his brothers would speak to him again after he “faked his death to play super spy” as Jason had put it. Bruce is the only one who will even talk to him anymore, which leads him to tonight’s patrol.

“You know, I’m pretty sick of playing mediator between you two.” Oracle must have remotely switched his comms back on, as Nightwing almost flinched in surprise at the sudden voice in his ear.

He came to a stop on a LexCorp billboard to catch his breath. Seriously, why was Lex trying to set up in Gotham of all places?

“You don’t mediate, you just take away our toys until one of us apologizes.”

That earned a chuckle from Babs, “I’m not afraid to do it again if you don’t work this out yourself.”

“Tell B to just meet me by the docks.”

Thank the Lord that Barbara at least still tolerates him. He fired his grapple to fly again.

. . . . . . . . . .

Having finally arrived at the docks, Nightwing did one last graceful flip, rolling and landing next to some containers. He snuck into the blue warehouse to his left through a window and softly closed it behind him. The warehouse was mostly empty, apart from a few crates and ladders leaned up against the wall. The crates look new in contrast to everything else in the room and were branded with a LexCorp logo on their side. Walking through the warehouse, he stepped on a few shards of glass. One glance at the broken skylight told him what he needed to know on how the magician managed to break in (only question is how they got to the skylight). Nightwing approached the crates and opened a few up. To his surprise, they were still filled with all of their contents.

He had been tracking a magician, supposedly female, for the past month who was wearing an orange outfit and a funky hat (the witnesses didn’t care to be more specific). Her plan still isn’t clear, as she has only been spotted turning a couple plants into coffee mugs and breaking into small local businesses, but lately she has been more specific in targeting LexCorp products.

He opened a new container. This one held all of its items as well.

Seeing a shadow in his peripheral vision, Nightwing was not surprised when Batman materialized beside him, “Don’t do that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nightwing continued to look through the crates for stolen merchandise, “This warehouse was broken into last night. Who I am assuming is the magician I’m tracking, broke in through the skylight and took some of the shipment heading for Lex-”

“Nightwing. Why have you been so agitated?”

“I’m not agitated, B. Just trying to solve the case.” Nightwing lied through his teeth.

“You have been upset with me lately and…” Batman took a deep breath, supposedly centering himself, “you have been compromising the mission.”

Leave it to Batman to be emotionally stunted. Nightwing understood what Batman was trying to say, but he really didn’t feel like talking in riddles the rest of the night. Even if he knew better, Nightwing decided to pick a fight.

“‘Cause that’s all you care about, right? The mission?”

“Nightwing-”

“No, B. I am upset with you. You’ve been totally in my business lately and maybe I’m a little sick of it.” Nightwing slammed down the container he had opened, causing the wall of boxes behind it to wobble a little. He noticed a box at the top was slightly opened. Having no footprints leading towards it, our magician is either a ghost or she can levitate. He is going with the former.

“It’s not my fault you failed to inform me of your whereabouts. If you would just listen-”

“No, you listen! I’m sorry that you miss Cass and that you’re having trouble keeping Jason on a short leash, but don’t take it out on me. I am a grown man and I deserve to have my own privacy.”

They both stood still for a moment. There was a leak in the roof somewhere in the warehouse and the constant dripping of the water droplets was giving him a headache. Batman seemed to be avoiding his gaze, but Nightwing noticed the way his shoulders were stiff.

“I just want to protect you.”

Batman’s shoulders sagged at the admission.

Those six words struck Nightwing’s core. He immediately turned away from Batman, pretending to be more interested in the opened crate. Seeing as he couldn’t reach it, Nightwing dragged over a ladder and motioned for Batman to assist in the investigation. Together they managed to get the crate on to the ground and peek inside. This one was empty.

After taking pictures of the crate, lack of contents, and the shipping details painted on the side, Nightwing finally turned to face Batman, “I… I appreciate you looking out for me. But I think I need space for the weekend. I know it’s hard to get the boys to come over when I’m around, so I’m going to go to my place for a couple days and you can waste your mother hen energy on them.”

Batman reached out a comforting hand, but pulled it back as fast as he had stuck it out, “Nightwing. Your brothers care about you just as much as I do.”

Nightwing let out a small chuckle, “I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re still mad at me.” Even if Nightwing knew it in his heart to be true, the love his brothers once had for him feels farther and farther away with each passing day. He knows that if anything happened to him that his brothers would care, but he doubts that they would care as much as they would have prior to Spyral. If Nightwing needed a few days out of the manor to allow his father to see his sons, he would do that.

Nightwing strode past Batman, “I’ll see you next week, B” and climbed up the wall to exit out the window he came in through. It creaked as he opened it. Not even questioning how Batman managed to enter the warehouse so soundlessly, he climbs out of the warehouse and onto the roof.

Nightwing raised his grapple and flew once more.

. . . . . . . . . .

Chapter Text

708 Words

Saturdays are supposed to be the best day of the week. 

First of all, Dick stubbed his toe when he got out of bed this morning, then accidentally poured his creamer packet into the trash instead of his coffee, and he’s pretty sure he left the stove on. Now, he is standing all alone in a small apartment, having just barely missed his magician, and he has a pit in his stomach.

 He quietly cursed under his breath and quickly left before anyone could discover his little B&E.

He discovered the apartment that the magician had been working out of last night, but clearly they had ditched it. On other news, Dick managed to get a better description out of a witness. The magician had a black leather jacket, Orange T-shirt, and jeans. The “funky hat”, a few witnesses had referred to, was a halloween witch hat. Apparently, the magician also wore a domino.

Solemnly climbing back through his window, Dick neatly took off his suit and dumped it on the arm of his couch. He threw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before settling down at the kitchen table. Notes and evidence for the case were strung throughout the entire living space.

He hadn’t cleaned in over a week, so his whole apartment smelled like greasy fast food and… what is that smell??

Something sour and sharp hit his nose, so he got up and made his way to his refrigerator. The second he opened it, he found the source of the smell. Dick doubled over on himself, gagging, once he caught sight of the milk. He quickly tossed it in the garbage and started searching random cabinets for a candle. He eventually found a jolly rancher scented candle hidden underneath two boxes of empty tea packets (It had been a housewarming gift from Kori), so he quickly lit it and breathed in the fruity smell of grape jolly ranchers. “Take that, milk” He murmured as he set the candle back down. 

Dick exited his apartment with the trash bag and quickly made his way to the dumpster. On his way back, Dick spotted the mailbox out of the corner of his eye and made his way over to open his box. He searched his hoodie and quickly realized he did not have his keys. Back to defeat.

He made his way back to his apartment and opened the door. He took a moment to really take in the state his apartment was in for the first time in a week. He had clothes strung everywhere, empty fast food bags on the coffee table, and he tried not to look at the mound of dishes in the sink. Yup, I’m officially Spiraling. 

He picked up a few clothes and put them in a laundry basket. When he re-entered the living area, he was hit with the smell of Jolly Rancher and decided that was enough cleaning for now. Before he could reach for the case file on the couch, his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

He slowly took out his phone and read “Alfie” as the caller ID. Sighing, Dick hit answer, “Hey, Alfred! What’s cooking?”

“Greetings to you too, Master Dick. And “what’s cooking”, as you put it, is the lasagna for tomorrow night’s dinner” Alfred’s tone was clearly accusing Dick of skipping out on dinner. He had totally planned to, but it still made Dick feel disappointed in himself.

“Yeah, I’m… not gonna make it tomorrow, sorry Alf.”

“Nonsense. I checked your calendar and you will have ample time to arrive at dinner and make it back out for night time activities. Unless, of course, you have something better to do than to come spend some time with your family?”

Dick looked around again at his filthy apartment and his eyes landed on the fast food. It’s been a while since he had an actual meal and Dick did not want to learn the consequences for saying no to Alfred, “Sounds great, Alf. I’ll be there” he sighed.

“Very good, I shall see you tomorrow then, Master Dick.”

The other line went dead. 

Now Dick was left in another empty apartment, but this time the pit in his stomach was even deeper.

. . . . . . . . . .

Chapter Text

1701 Words

The manor was always intimidating.

Dick has fought metahumans twice his size, mad men, and aliens from another dimension. Yet, the most intimidating thing for him is knocking on a simple door. A couple years ago, knocking on this door was the highlight of his week. A couple years ago, Damian was behind this door.

Many people misunderstood Damian, but Dick understood the rose that was hidden under all those layers of thorns. When Dick would knock on the door, it was Damian who would always answer it. Dick still has no idea how he always managed to beat Alfred, but Damian was always there. He would always pretend getting the door was an inconvenience for him and that he should not have bothered. He would stay an arm’s length away from Dick, but slowly move closer to his side as the day went on. When no one else could look, Dick would offer Damian his hand. On rare occasions, Damian would take it.

 Now Dick stands in front of a giant door that no one had any right to own. Dick could spread his arms as far as possible and still fit through. A door that was lined on the edges with gold, a door with wood polished to perfection, and a door Damian would not open. 

Just as Dick raised his fist to knock, Alfred opened the door and gave him a look. Dick looked down at his khaki shorts and blue buttoned shirt. He hadn’t done laundry in a while, okay?

Dick brushed a hand through his messy hair and gave Alfred a cheeky grin.

“I do hope you are planning on coming inside, Master Dick.”

“I’m coming, Alfred.” This time Dick’s smile was more genuine, but it dropped the second he walked in the manor. The walls felt taller than before and he could hear small voices coming from the dining room. Dick stopped in his tracks and took a moment to collect himself. He took a deep breath, and caught the pitiful look Alfred gave him, before Alfred entered the dining room. Leaving Dick behind. 

Dick loved his family. He wanted nothing more than to run in and hug everyone, but he knows that they do not want the same. He understood why they didn’t want his greeting. They lost their youngest brother and then thought they lost their oldest brother, only for that oldest brother to have faked his death. Of course they’re mad at him. Even Cass was a little frustrated with him (though she did her best to hide it).

Dick took one last breath and stepped into the room. It instantly looked silent and everyone turned to look at him. Jason (who he was surprised to see) and Tim were clearly surprised he was there, but Bruce even more so. When Bruce narrowed his eyes as if to ask, “Did you change your mind?” Dick awkwardly smiled at him and said, “Alfred called me.”

Jason immediately bowed his head to look at the table while Tim continued to stare. Bruce just went back to his newspaper. Dick was tempted for a moment to go and ruffle Tim’s hair, but thought otherwise and sat down next to Bruce. Tim continued to stare at him until he sat down, then joined in with Jason who was still studying the table. 

Dick was about to join them in their table watching after a moment, but then Bruce turned to him, “Did you ever get a lead on your case?”

Dick’s gaze flickered around the room, waiting for Alfred to come around the corner and lecture them for cape talk at the table. When he didn’t appear, Dick replied, “I managed to track down her apartment, but I just missed her.”

“You don’t know how to miss anybody.” Jason was clearly already angry, even though Dick hadn’t even addressed him yet.

Jason was about to continue berating Dick, but Bruce sent him a stern stare.

Jason slumped back into his chair. Having lost interest in the table, he stared at the wall to the left. Tim continued to study the way the wood swirled and interlooped on the wooden surface. They moved into a very uncomfortable silence. 

Before Bruce got a chance to break it, Alfred walked in with a steaming pan of lasagna. He set it on the table and sent Jason a look Dick didn’t quite catch. Dick reached over at the same time as Tim to grab a plate and he quickly pulled back his hand. After another moment of silence, Dick rose from his seat, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

He began making his way to the door, trying his best to avoid eye contact with anyone, when Alfred materialized in front of him, “I do hope you’re willing to at least stay to eat this lasagna I spent my entire saturday preparing.”

Dick was instantly struck with guilt. He slowly backed into his seat next to Bruce and continued to avoid eye contact for several minutes. 

Tim looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and began to make himself a plate. As Bruce moved to make his own plate, Jason just continued to stare at the wall. As Dick finally moved to make his own plate, Jason mumbled, “Can you at least pretend we exist?”

“What?”

“Honestly, you haven’t even made eye contact with me or Tim. You were all about “family togetherness” before you left to play super spy, but now you can barely look us in the eye and ask us how our day went!”

“Jason, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your damn apology!” Jason slammed his hands on the table and sent Dick a glare that could rival The Batman.

Alfred cleared his throat, “Master Jason, perhaps we can get to the point?”

Jason groaned into his hands before dropping them and giving Dick a hard glare, “Alfred-”

Alfred sent Jason another glance.

“ I want you to patrol with us tonight.” Jason broke eye contact the second he got the sentence out.

Dick was flabbergasted. 

He was a deer in headlights. He stared at Jason, jaw to the floor, because his little brother wanted to go on patrol with him. He took in a breath and was about to immediately agree, but then he read a little deeper into his younger brother’s posture. 

He didn’t want to patrol with Dick tonight.

Tim was looking between the two, frantically, and Jason looked ashamed . Alfred was clearly awaiting Dick’s answer, while Bruce was reading the room just as Dick was. Dick knew his brother was mad at him, but knew that Jason did actually care. He also knew that Jason didn’t like patrolling with people. Alfred had clearly arranged this and even though Dick wanted nothing more than to go on a patrol with his brothers and potentially play rooftop tag, Dick also didn’t want to have to force his family to hang out with him. If Dick had learned one thing in the last year, it was boundaries . 

He was stuck in Spyral under threat of never escaping, so Dick had taken a lot of time to reflect. He had reflected on how he treated his brothers and those reflections had quickly turned negative. He was always pressing into Jason’s boundaries, always trying to tell Tim what to do, and always having to force his brothers to do things with him. Dick wanted to do better after he returned. Everyone was mad at him, so Dick put some distance between him and his family by running away to Blüdhaven to give them space. 

His brain scrambled for a way to get out of this. Alfred and Bruce may have wanted him to say yes, but his brothers looked very uncomfortable. 

“I have too much to do tonight, sorry Jay.”

Dick could have sworn a look of hurt crossed Jason’s face before it evolved into anger. Tim almost looked sad. Alfred was clearly surprised by Dick’s wording and Bruce retained his neutral expression. 

Dick realized that his eyes were getting misty, and that he had clearly messed up, so before anyone could stop him Dick quickly left the manor.

Jason or Alfred may have called after him, but he was on his motorcycle and out the driveway before they could stop him. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, but they always came back to one statement.

His brothers don’t want him here . 

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick’s not sulking . He’s just sitting on his couch with some microwaved hot chocolate and going over his case. Just because he hasn’t touched it in over an hour doesn’t mean anything.

His apartment is still a wreck, so he eventually set down his now cold, untouched drink and got up to go to his room so that he wouldn’t have to look at the leftover takeout any longer. That only led to him staring at his bed, which was covered in dirty laundry he had yet to do. He should really start getting back on a schedule .

He shoved all his clothes on the floor and layed down on his bed in defeat. He stared at the ceiling and studied the old water stains and cracked plaster. The water stain reminded him of a bald person and the cracked plaster was cracked in a way that it outlined a crude hat. He decided the bald man was probably Lex Luthor and the hat reminded him of Scarecrow’s hat he wore back when Dick was Robin. Scarecrow hasn’t been active for a while now since he escaped Arkham, but an abundance of his fear gas have been sprouting up around the city. In fact, they became a problem once Lex had started up shop here in Gotham…

Dick shot out of bed and began pacing his apartment. 

Lex and Scarecrow may be teaming up and my magician might be trying to take advantage. The magician had clearly been targeting Lexcorp products, but had only been stealing from shipments. They only tried stealing from stores that carried Lexcorp tech once and that was the first account of stealing. Obviously, the magician is trying to find specific products. The missing product from the shipyard wasn’t set to go on sale according to the tag he took a picture of. In fact, it was set to be sent to a warehouse-

Dick may have found his magician.

. . . . . . . . . .

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It’s always a warehouse. 

Dick wouldn’t consider himself superstitious, but there are a lot of coincidences that happen in his field of work. Like when you say “I've got you now!” The villain chooses that moment to place their ace. 

He stared at the rusted, green warehouse, only about a mile from the original warehouse he looked into on Friday. This time he wouldn’t have Batman tailing him. 

He thinks. 

Nightwing quickly did a once over of the shadows. When he found nothing, he made his way to the warehouse.

Nightwing entered through a window and carefully made his way along the rafters. The warehouse smelled like dust and looked abandoned. There were boxes messily strung everywhere, ladders turned on their sides (weird), and there had been an oil spill somewhere. Moonlight leaked out from the skylights and illuminated the filthy floor. 

Nightwing scanned the room again while up in the rafters for any sign of life. It wasn’t until a bat ( Haha, very funny universe) flew out through the skylight that Nightwing gave up looking. Just as he made his way to the window, he heard the faint sound of voices murmuring. They weren’t talking very loud (hardly above a whisper), but the empty warehouse managed to carry their voices to Nightwing’s ears. 

He quietly hopped from the rafters onto some stable enough looking crates and leaned forward to attempt and make out what the voices were saying. There were three workers unloading a truck. He made out “Shipment” and “Lexcorp”, but was too far away to pick up a sentence. He made his way to the edge of the crate, prepared to get to a better listening area, when he heard rustling behind him. 

His bat instincts immediately sent him leaping silently back into the rafters and he scanned the dark to look for the source of the noise. 

Bingo

There she was. The magician was rummaging through a crate in the very edge of the warehouse. She had a classic magician hat, blue jeans shorts, fishnets, a short cut leather jacket, and an orange shirt underneath. She was actually shorter than he expected. She had short, black hair that was styled in a bob-cut. 

She was going through different boxes. One hand was rummaging through the crate and the other was holding the crate open while also carrying a long stick. Probably a fairy wand . 

Nightwing dropped to the ground behind her and smiled smugly when she jumped at least a foot in the air at the sound of his landing. He wasn’t so smug when she whipped her wand around and fired a huge beam of light straight at him. He managed to flip to avoid the beam of light, so it hit a ladder instead of him. The ladder was sent spinning in the air before it landed… on its side. So that explains the weird ladders.

The magician cursed under her breath before smacking her wand a couple of times. Oh. She’s an amateur . 

“Listen, Gladis. Clearly you don’t know what you’re doing. Let’s put the wand down and talk, yeah?”

Gladis scowled, “Name’s Azura! An’ you ain’t gettin’ this thing away from me!”

“Suit yourself.”

Nightwing pulled his escrima sticks off of his back and dropped into a fighting stance. This clearly scared Gla- Azura , as she yelped and started to book it. He quickly threw his escrima stick at her and she immediately crumpled to the ground. 

This is the magician I've been chasing for a month??

Just as Nightwing took a step towards the magician, she rolled back over to rest on her hands. She pointed her wand at Nightwing again, which caused him to take a cautious step back. 

“If you come any closer, I’ll send ya to another universe!”

Nightwing feigned surprise, “You can do that?”

The magician hesitated. Nightwing took the opportunity to throw his other escrima stick and knocked the wand out of her hand. She quickly scrambled after it and Nighting pursued. She snatched her wand and jumped over a crate in an attempt to escape. Nightwing flipped over it and cornered her between two walls of boxes.

“I’ve got you cornered.”

Uh-oh. If there’s one thing you learn in this business, it’s that you should never say that.

The magician smirked and fired a beam of magic to her right. Nightwing immediately registered that one of the workers had wandered over to put away a box. Before he thought twice, Nightwing leaped in front of the worker and took the hit. He was sent flying through the skylight. The last he saw of the magician was the top of her funky hat as she escaped. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing loved to fly. This felt more like falling upward.

Nightwing was sent flying through the skylight and into the sky. He was smacked in the face with water as he went through a cloud. Once he had gotten above the clouds, he began his descent. Just as he reached for his grapple, he was yanked to the right and kept flying.

Then it was left.

Then it was down.

Back up again.

He kept falling upward (and right and left and downward) until he was able to grab onto the top of the Wayne Enterprises building. He stayed there, clinging to a satellite tower for 30 minutes before the spell finally wore off. He slowly climbed down and sat on the top of the roof. His eyes landed on the roof of the neighboring building, which had a Lexcorp billboard. He stared at Lex’s face for all of two seconds before sighing and pulling out his communicator. 

Time to call in some backup.

. . . . . . . . . .

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Of course it was an amateur. 

Dick couldn’t just get an experienced magician. Amateur magicians are easier to take down, yes, but they have little to no control over their magic, which often leads to major civilian casualties. Which is the main reason he had to call for backup. 

Dick heard a knock on the window. He paused his paper organizing and made his way over to see Tim (who was dressed in civvies and a backpack) on the other side of the glass. Tim waved.

Dick opened the window and Tim climbed in. Steph appeared behind him and gave him a quick hug before sprinting into the kitchen for food.

Tim B-lined it for the case, as Steph began to eat Dick’s last box of Lucky Charms. Being incapable of telling Steph no, Dick made his way to where Tim was, who had picked up different photos and evidence to analyze. 

Dick once again took in all the evidence he had gathered… ten photos and a receipt. Tim lifted a photo of a blurry figure breaking into a shop and a picture of mugs scattered throughout a park. He sent Dick a look. Dick eyed the pictures and sighed, “I’ve been keeping an eye on her antics for a month now, but only in the last week have I actually been able to put all my focus on her.”

Tim hummed under his breath as he went back to analyzing the photos. Steph finally poured a bowl (instead of eating straight from the box) and made her way to the living room to watch TV. Dick turned away from Tim, “So where’s B?”

Steph stopped flipping through the two channels Dick owned, “He had ‘something to deal with’,” Steph put two fingers up to imitate the mean bat as she spoke. Dick smiled at her antics, “He’ll meet us at the stakeout.” 

Tim set down all the photos, “Speaking of which, where are we staking out?”

“That I haven’t decided. The magician, Azura, looks to be targeting LexCorp technology. With the recent influx of Scarecrow toxin, I have a theory that the two are teaming up to create new technology and that Azura is taking advantage.” Dick rested his elbows on one of his kitchen chairs.

Tim glanced back at the photos, “We’ve been suspecting a Lex and Scarecrow team up as well.” 

Holy hoarding information, Batman!

Tim picked up the picture of the missing container from Friday, “We should stake out the abandoned factory in the Straights. Lexcorp trucks have been spotted dropping off products, but none have been seen taking out products. If Azura’s searching for a specific product that Lex is keeping behind curtains, it’ll be there.”

Dick could do nothing but stare at his smart, little brother. Dick smiled and nodded. He lifted his hand to ruffle Tim’s hair, but quickly withdrew. Tim stared for a moment and then began to organize the photos. 

Dick tried to tune in to the television, but that just led him to spotting the empty takeout boxes. Dick quickly realized that he hadn’t straightened up the apartment at all. He quickly moved to pick up the empty takeout boxes. As he passed Tim, he gave a weak smile. Tim just sent him an odd look, before taking in the entire living space, “Your apartment’s trashed.” 

Dick went to dump the takeout boxes into the garbage, but realized he never replaced the bag. He sighed and set the takeout trash on the counter, “Yeah, it’s been a rough week for me.”

The TV’s sounds were background noise as Dick soaked in the awkward silence.

“You… could always crash at my place if you need to.” Tim nervously glanced around, “But- but you don’t have to! It’s just if you need it. If you feel uncomfortable, I also have a bunch of B’s safehouses you could use.”

Dick beamed at his little brother, “Thank you.” Maybe his brother does still care about him .

Steph turned off the television and got off the couch to stretch. She zipped open a duffle bag with her suit in it, “Big man thinks he found your magician. Timmers here is right, your magician’s hitting the abandoned warehouse.”

Tim wore a smug smile. He opened his backpack and quickly grabbed his suit. 

Dick made his way to his hidden compartment for his backup Escrima sticks, “Let’s go.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing landed on a building neighboring the factory with Spoiler and Red Robin in tow. The building was just taller than the factory, so Red Robin pulled out his binoculars and began looking for an opening. Spoiler started connecting to her comm while Nightwing searched the shadows for Batman. 

Sure enough, Batman landed just behind them and quickly strode over, “Scarecrow is in the factory right now, but I saw Azura enter only ten minutes ago at 01:56 hours. 

Steph grumbled, “Why can’t villains commit crimes at noon or something?”

Nightwing smiled at the dream of villains working 9 to 5, but quickly dropped his smile, “Scarecrow’s in there?”

“Hn.” was all the response Batman made before pulling out his rebreather and waiting for everyone else to follow suit.

Nightwing pulled his rebreather over his face. It smelled like rubber and sweat. Just as he secured it, Red Robin found a part of the wall that was torn out. They all followed his lead and climbed through the opening. Batman was too large to fit through, so he leaped to the roof to look for an open skylight. Nightwing followed through the hole in the wall and began to balance over the rafters.

The rafters were just wide enough to cover his feet, meaning it was a pretty easy walk for him. Spoiler slipped halfway through, but Nightwing easily caught her and swung her back up. Tim glanced back with relief at her safety and continued to lead them through the factory. 

Nightwing nearly jumped when Oracle’s voice suddenly appeared in his ear. Again. 

“Finally connected. The reception in that building is awful. I’m seeing that you all have about an hour before the next LexCorp shipment arrives.”

“Meaning we have an hour before Lex arrives” Tim grumbled. 

“Are you on a first name basis with him?” Steph retorted.

Tim frowned and slowed down as the rafters opened into a catwalk overlooking the main room of the factory. Judging by the height of the wall, you could stand six wonder women on top of each other and they’d still fit comfortably in the room. The catwalk was about five Wonder Women up, so the group had plenty of headroom to stand up and relax. 

Dick was lost in thought as the group crouched as low as uncomfortably as they could to the catwalk.

Spoiler leaned in, “Whatcha thinkin about?”

“I think you stack six wonder women in here.”

“No way! You could stack seven.”

Tim decided to chime in then, “Actually, Wonder Woman is taller than Superman, so-”

“Focus.” Batman’s grumpy voice chimed in over the comms. 

Nightwing was about to argue that “determining how large a room is” was focusing, but Scarecrow chose that moment to announce his presence, ashe kicked open the door from another room. Scarecrow strode across the factory carrying a crate. Two goons followed him with crates of their own.

One of the goons carefully set down their box and wiped sweat off their forehead, “Gee boss, I thought you were done with this stuff.”

Scarecrow scoffed before setting down his own box, “I am moving on to more ambitious chemicals, yes, but I figured I might as well get paid for all this useless gas I made a year back.” 

Scarecrow kicked the box he had set down, causing the vials to rattle inside.

The goons both took a step back. Scarecrow laughed at them, “Don’t be afraid .”

He picked up and tossed one of the vials at a goon, who juggled with it before finally catching it in a death grip. The goon carefully set down the vial in a crate while Scarecrow just laughed.

“Why would you ever work for this guy?” Spoiler mumbled. Red Robin shushed her.

Scarecrow suddenly brought his hand to his ear and began to seemingly mutter to himself. Probably talking to Luthor.  

A couple more goons entered the room with Fear Toxin crates and set them down next to the others. Scarecrow let out a belly laugh and continued to talk into his ear. 

Red Robin started to get out his recording device when they all heard clattering coming from the other room.

All the goons immediately reached for their handguns while Scarecrow picked up a vial of fear gas. The goons took a cautious step towards the sound before one of them took a ladder to the head and was knocked out cold. 

The ladder landed perfect on its side.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Spoiler gave a silent round of applause for landing the ladder while Nightwing verbally sighed and palmed his forehead. 

The magician, Azura, leaped from the shadows and sent a plethora of fireworks at the various goons.

“Time to step in.” Nightwing announced before leaping into the fray. 

Scarecrow immediately noticed the family’s presence and took a cautious three steps back, “It’s you! ”

He pointed directly at Nightwing, as Dick just saluted with a smug smile and threw himself at a nearby goon. Nightwing had been immune to Fear Gas since he was 16. Due to his exposure to it since he was 8, Nightwing was no longer affected by it. Sure, it made him dizzy, but he didn’t see the nightmares that often came with being given a dose. He was probably Scarecrow’s least favorite Bat, second to the man himself. 

The three bats found themselves slightly overwhelmed as more goons arrived and Azura continued to shoot off giant fireworks. The combination of noise and chaotic fighting caused them to retreat back to the corner of the room. 

With the magician preoccupied by goons, Scarecrow makes his way through the chaos, towards the Bats and gets ready to smash his vial of Fear Gas on the group. Just as he pulled his arm back to do so, the skylight burst in an array of light and loud noise. Shattered glass sprayed everywhere and one Batman and Red Hood entered the battle. 

. . . . . . . . . .

5 minutes prior

Batman checked the surface of the roof for what felt like the hundredth time. Though, it was only his third time checking. Damian probably would have found a way in by now, “Not seeing an opening Oracle.”

Batman waited for a response, but was distracted when he heard a burst of noise come from inside the building. He immediately fell to his knees and peered through the glass. All he could see were bodies being thrown around and fireworks going off. He stood back up and shot his grappling hook at the glass, only for it to bounce off. The glass was barely cracked. 

Lost in his panic thoughts, Batman hadn’t noticed a presence behind him until Jason spoke up, “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll work.”

“Did Oracle call you?”

“No, actually. Tim called me in for backup about-,” Jason glanced at his bare wrist, “an hour ago.”

Batman and Red Hood stared at each other for ten seconds before Batman heard more explosions go off in the building. He continued to check the skylight for a latch.

“Okay, so I was at a movie.” Red Hood casually strode up to a neighboring skylight and began to place something along the edges.

“We are not using explosives.” Batman retorted.

“ You’re not using explosives.” Red Hood remarked as he pulled a button out from his jacket.

Batman immediately covered Red Hood as the explosion went off, leaving a gaping hole in the roof. Red Hood immediately pushed Batman off and leapt into the fray, cheering. Batman could do nothing but sigh as he followed suit.

. . . . . . . . . .

Red Hood shot a goon next to Dick with a rubber bullet as he entered the fray. Nightwing smiled and opened his mouth to thank him, but Jason shushed him, “Before you say anything, the only reason I’m here is because Replacement called me. Not you.”

Red Hood ran into the crowd aiming his guns and Nightwing felt hurt by his words, even if they were true. He turned back to see Scarecrow throwing his Fear Toxin. Almost in slow motion, he watched as Tim and Steph managed to dodge the vial. The glass, filled with green gas, continued to spin through the air, eventually meeting its target.

The magician immediately began screaming and crying, spinning spells in every other direction. One spell zippied past Nightwing’s ear before hitting a goon and sending him flying into the ceiling. Nightwing cringed. Been there.

“Okay someone needs to calm that chick down!” Red Hood shouts before shooting at another goon. 

All the goons immediately clear out of the way as Nightwing shouts to get Red Robin and Spoiler’s attention. Having to speak around his rebreather, Nightwing begins barking orders, “Me and Spoiler need to get Gladis over there under control. Red Robin, I need you to get Scarecrow. Make sure your rebreather stays secure.” Nightwing tacked on that last bit as Spoiler subconsciously checked her own rebreather.

Both nodded and followed directions with Nightwing and Spoiler heading to the edge of the room where the flying ladder and fireworks were originating. Azura didn’t see them at first, which gave Spoiler the opportunity to swing a batarang and knock the wand out of her hand. 

The magician was still freaked out on Fear Gas and began using a crude form of karate against Spoiler, as Spoiler attempted to hogtie her without hurting her. Nightwing began to advance towards the wand, but heard Red Robin shout for his help.

Scarecrow had found a scythe and was using it to keep Red Robin out of arm’s reach. Nightwing looked towards Spoiler, who seemed to be holding her own, and sprinted towards Tim. Using the element of surprise, Nightwing managed to send a kick to the back of Scarecrow’s head and Scarecrow crumpled to the ground. Tim thanked him and pulled rope from his utility belt to secure Scarecrow with. Nightwing covered Red Robin and took out a few more goons.

Spoiler had gotten the magician’s hands behind her back before the magician suddenly threw her head behind her and hit Spoiler square on the nose. With Spoilter’s vision blurred from tears, the magician got away from Spoiler, grabbed her wand, and immediately spotted Dick. 

Dick spotted the barrage of fireworks heading his direction barely in time to flip out of the way. The magician was coherent enough to target someone, who unfortunately was Dick at the moment. Spoiler regained her sight and began advancing on the magician, who was running away from her to continue attacking Dick. 

Tim was still trying to tie up Scarecrow while dealing with goons (Red Hood had made his way over to help). Dick continued to dodge the array of exploding color with ease, taking out a few goons along the way. The magician eventually got bored of the chase and whipped around to shoot a firework at Spoiler. Spoiler got out of the way, but the explosion sent her flying back. She sprawled on the ground and began to quickly pick herself up. The magician looked back at Nightwing before bringing her wand above her head and reciting a spell. Dick panicked as he realized the magician was going to try and hit Spoiler.

Nightwing began to sprint towards Spoiler, but then the magician changed her aim from Spoiler to Nightwing. In an attempt to get out of the way, Nightwing put all his weight on his heels and began to fall back. Before he could hit the ground, a bright light coming from the magician’s wand struck his chest. 

. . . . . . . . . .

It was bright. He saw colors of all kinds, but one color stuck out the most: Blue. It was bright and gave him a headache, but he couldn't help but marvel at all the swirling hues. Red swirled into orange as it touched with yellow. The purples changed from magenta back to purple. Green would go in and out before fading back to blue. It was like a silent firework show. It was so bright, that when he finally entered darkness, he didn’t know it was dark. 

He felt rain pelt his face and registered that something soft was sinking into his back, but Nightwing had no idea where he was.

. . . . . . . . . .

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Dick was gone. 

Dick

Was. Gone.

Steph stared at the fizzling concrete and its overall lack of a melted Nightwing. 

Nightwing’s gone. 

The magician staggered slightly, her grin widening at finally hitting her target. The smile was almost feral and joker-like. The magician was still fresh off of fear gas and clearly had not shook off the effects completely. 

Azura had used Stephanie as bait. She had caught Spoiler off guard and targeted her to land a hit on Nightwing. It was her fault. 

Oracle’s frantic voice was saying something over the comms, but Stephanie didn’t hear any of it. She watched the magician turn towards the crates of Fear Gas, but Stephanie wasn’t going to let her get to it. 

The magician was closer to the crates of Fear Gas than Spoiler was, but that wasn’t a problem. Spoiler used a nearby goon as a launchpad and leaped over the magician’s head, placing herself between Azura and the crates of Fear Gas. 

The magician was obviously spooked, so Spoiler took advantage. She immediately swept Azura’s legs from under her, knocking the magician to the ground.

Around her, Red Robin had successfully tied up Scarecrow, Red Hood and Batman had finished off the majority of the goons, and the rest were retreating. Red Robin readied his bow staff when Lex’s crew of workers finally arrived, who had immediately pulled out their firearms when they saw the brawl taking place. 

A look of fear grew on the magician’s face as Spoiler towered over her shaking form on the ground. Suddenly, A cry for help broke out in the room.

Everyone’s heads snapped towards the sound. The goon who had been trapped to the ceiling by a spell had begun his descent, falling into a wall of stacked crates and knocking them all over, smashing all the technology that was in the crates. The crates knocked over some canisters of gas. The spilled gas seeped its way to the crackling technology and it immediately burst into flames. 

Spoiler glanced back at the retreating magician. Then she looked towards the LexCorp workers who were slowly being engulfed in flames. She didn’t even waste a second on the decision. She ran to the workers and assisted the other bats in evacuating them. 

Against the heat of the flames, Spoiler felt a cool, gentle breeze. She turned to see the workers had left the factory door wide open, meaning an easy exit for everyone. She shouted for the other bat’s attention and they worked together to get everyone out in time.

. . . . . . . . . .

The goons were all left in a sprawling pile of tangled limbs outside the factory. Scarecrow was coming back to it, but was still incoherent as a LexCorp worker called the police (and fire department). They never saw Luthor’s face, but they all knew he was probably there.

Stephanie stood on a rooftop, overlooking the smoking factory in anger. The fire was mostly put out, but sparks still flew through the night sky, the smoke stinging her nostrils. Everyone was doing a gear check behind her, making sure everything was accounted for. And everyone.

Batman asked what Spoiler was dreading, “Where is Nightwing?”

Everyone else in the group began to slightly panic, looking around the rooftop frantically trying to find the hero. Oracle interrupted them, “I lost Nightwing’s signal while he and Spoiler were fighting Azura.”

All eyes turned to Stephanie as she turned around to meet their gaze. She took a moment to lower her mask and hood before looking Batman in the eyes, “He was hit by some sort of spell. I couldn’t stop it.”

She felt her eyes getting misty as her vision began to slightly blur. She turned away out of embarrassment, but Tim walked up to comfort her. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and gave her an easy, practiced smile. She smiled back.

Jason didn’t wait for the moment to finish, “So, what? He just disappeared?”

“Pretty much.” Stephanie mumbled back, “I don’t think he’s dead, just… gone.”

“Like a vanishing trick.” Tim tacked on.

“Oh, magic. Yay .” Jason threw up jazz hands, his tone laced with sarcasm. He strode to the edge of the rooftop and kicked a can off of it. Batman motioned for them to return to the Batcave. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Jason made his way back down the stairs to the cave. He made his steps loud and known, as he liked being obnoxious whenever he was in the manor. He had been tasked with updating Alfred on the situation. Alfred tried to remain resigned, but Jason could tell when he was stress cooking. 

The cave was as quiet as it was in Jason’s Robin days. He could hear the bats squeaking and the water dripping off in the tunnels. The chill sent a shiver down Jason’s spine that not even his padded leather jacket could stop.

When he had finished stomping down the steps, Jason made his way over to the legendary Batman, who was hunched over the Bat-Computer ( who came up with that? ), and Jason leaned into his personal space in order to read the screen. Bruce was still just watching the same clip over and over. 

Dick would be flipping and dodging magic, the magician would pretend to shoot at Spoiler, and Dick would get hit with magic in an attempt to save her. Dick would then disappear in an explosion of color that would be on screen for less than a second, leaving nothing but the sizzling concrete. The camera feeds would then go out due to the fire.

After Bruce hit play for the third time, Jason paused the video himself, “You know, you could actually do detective work instead of watching the same video over and over.”

Batman gave a disapproving look, “Can’t. The factory fire burned all useful evidence. Not to mention that the fire department took the case from the police department. Commissioner Gordon doesn’t have access to any evidence that the Fire Department might have found.”

Yeah, that would be a problem. But…

“I probably have a guy.”

Tim piped up from the training bench where he was treating one of Steph’s burns, “How do you have a guy in the fire department ?”

“I have a guy everywhere, Replacement.”

Tim gave him a look that said “I don’t believe you”. Tim was treating a burn Stephanie had gotten from a stray firework. Steph was clearly sulking. If the little Demon Brat were here, he would probably scold her for not doing anything. He was also probably the only person who could get Batman out of that damn chair. Damian was a brat, sure, but he also went into everything with all his focus and determination. 

“Call your contact,” The Batman interrupted Jason’s thoughts. 

Wait, what?

“Try and get a hold of any evidence from the fire,” Batman continued to rattle off orders, “Oracle is scanning for face recognition in case it was a teleportation spell. I’m going to contact Zatanna.”

Not moving from his seat, Batman rolled his chair to the other side of the desk. He pulled out a drawer that held a… Bat-Phone. Batman began to dial a number Jason didn’t recognize. 

Batman never trusted Jason’s contacts. He would always try and solve cases without them and only resorted to them when absolutely necessary. Batman was losing his touch. 

As Jason finished sending a text to his contact, Bruce all but slammed the phone back down and then gently closed the drawer, “Zatanna is off-world.”

Tim, having finished Steph’s burns and moving on to his self-examination, caught Batman’s attention before speaking, “I bet Constantine could get here in less than an hour.”

Batman grunted and was about to begin another call, but Tim had other plans, “Let me contact him, he’ll be here sooner.” Tim moved to what was probably the Bat-Drawer, switched spots with Bruce, picked up the Bat-Phone and began to dial Constantine’s number.

Jason was just confused, “Okay, First of all; why would Constantine help us? Second of all; why would he help you ?”

Tim just casually turned his head while the phone rang, “He owes Dick a favor.”

“Why would he owe Golden Boy a favor”?

Before Tim could answer his question, someone on the other side of the phone had answered. While Tim spoke to, supposedly, Constantine, Jason heard a motorcycle revving from the entrance of the cave. He and Batman immediately tensed and pulled out a respective Batarang ( Seriously who names this stuff? ) and a hand-held firearm. They both readied themselves as the motorcycle got louder. 

Cassandra (or Black Bat) roared into the cave and came to a screeching halt before leaping off the motorcycle and frantically searching the cave.

Tim glanced behind him briefly before apologizing to the phone, “Oh, yeah, I called Cass.”

As Tim went back to his call, Cass went up to everyone and checked them for injuries before giving them a quick hug and moving on to the next person. She just gave Jason a quick glance and nod. Once she was done, she signed to Bruce, No big brother?

Batman shook his head.

Oracle announced herself on the speakers before getting straight to business, “Magician was spotted by the docks.”

Spoiler stood up, “Looks like I’m going witch hunting.” She began a sprint to the motorcycles.

Black Bat leaped with joy and ran after her.

Tim had finished his call and wore a smug smile. Before Jason could chastise him, a golden glow erupted from the center of the cave. It sparked and glowed brighter before enlarging itself into a tall oval. A man stepped through before the portal closed behind him in another spectacular glow. 

Constantine wore a smile more smug than Tim’s, “Ello, loves. I heard you were looking for a Nightwing?”

. . . . . . . . . .

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Nightwing’s vision had been so bright. When the light faded, he was left in darkness. He had probably been in darkness for a while now, but his eyes were still recovering from the onslaught of bright colors. He still saw some spots, but now he could see real stars rather than the ones swimming in his vision, which was weird since he had been inside a factory a moment before.

Nightwing’s been blown through walls over a dozen times, but right now he didn’t feel the familiar ache of broken wood and debris in his back. He must have ended up outside another way. Another thing was off. He felt like he was lying on something plush and squishy. Actually, something smells really bad.

When the haze in his vision dissipated, Nightwing glanced down to see that he had “landed” in a dumpster. He yelped and hopped out of the green bin. He gagged while aggressively brushing himself off. The quick motion had caused discomfort in his chest. Where I had been hit.

Memories of the night started to slowly flood back into his brain as he backtracked to how he fell into a dumpster. The magician had hit him with another spell.

He looked around to find himself in a dark alley (the factory was nowhere in sight). The smog told him he was still in Gotham, but he wasn’t sure what part of the city he was in. The walls of the surrounding buildings were made of cracking, red brick. As he walked down the alley to scan his surroundings, it hit him like a small semi. I’m in Crime Alley.  

Just as he finished his thought, he heard footsteps behind him. Two goons entered the mouth of the alley, both wielding wooden bats. They smiled and snickered as they approached, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a newcomer.”

“Sorry guys, but I really don’t have time for this,” Nightwing turned towards the wall to scale it, but heard the footsteps continuing their slow approach. He turned around again and pointed at the blue bird on his chest. Which the two guys just laughed at. 

“He’s in pajamas!”

That- was a different response. Typically, folks just ran for the hills at any sign of Bat & Co.

The first thug swung his bat, so Nightwing easily ducked and swept his legs out from under him. The thug went down fast and the second one stumbled back in surprise. Nightwing did a flip over the second thug to block his exit. He immediately put up his hands in surrender. 

. . . . . . . . . .

After tying the thugs up with spare zip ties, Nightwing scaled the wall and made it up to the roof. The rough brick dug into his fingers and crumbled a bit when he put too much of his weight on one part of the wall. He hauled himself onto the roof with a grunt and began to walk to the roof’s edge. He took a few steps before that feeling of discomfort in his chest was back. He poked around to check for injury and winced when he got to his ribs. Yep, definitely bruised . 

The bruising wasn’t “seek immediate care” bad, but Nightwing wouldn’t be much help even if he managed to get to the factory before the fight ended. He sat on a vent overlooking the city and whipped out his wristwatch Bruce had given him. He called for a bat-mobile pickup. Truly a genius name.

The city lights twinkled and winked as he practiced the breathing techniques Bruce had taught him. A breeze blew softly through his hair and he selfishly decided to bask in this moment of calm. After about a minute of the wristwatch trying to contact the bat-mobile (and failing), Nightwing decided to just call Oracle. She probably had a better connection than he did. He connected his comm to her line, “Hey O, I’ve got some bruised ribs and need a pick-up. But I could probably manage if B needed the backup.”

Another 30 seconds pass and no response. He took out his comm to analyze it and saw that it wasn’t connected to anything. Nightwing sighed and worked to get it on the right channel. Once he was sure his communicator was on the right frequency, Nightwing tried again. When he lifted the device to put it back to his ear, he heard the slow and steady sound of static escaping the small earpiece. That’s strange.

There were two situations his brain immediately came up with. Either A), Barbara’s technology has failed and needs to be fixed, or B) the family ran into trouble.

Nightwing immediately started sprinting towards the edge of the roof and made a clean jump to the other side. He rolled to catch his landing and stayed crouched for a few moments. After finding that the movement only caused discomfort and not unbearable pain to his ribs, he was off. He lept from roof to roof, making his way across the city. Crime Alley was a dense neighborhood, so Nightwing could make the jumps without a grapple. His ribs were becoming more uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter. His family could be in trouble. 

He approached the factory and started running scenarios through his head. If they were truly in trouble, B’s signal would have gone off, but there are always situations in which his signal could be blocked. It’s still strange that I didn’t have any contact from O at all if- He made the last jump and overlooked… an empty lot?

The factory was nowhere. There was no debris, no sign of construction, and no sign of any bats. It was just a square property with dirt and a fence outlining it. He searched the property for any sign of maybe disappearing magic when he saw a small sign stating the property was “For Sale!”.

Nightwing took off towards the Clock Tower, hoping he’d find Oracle. If anyone knew what was happening, it was her. In the middle of a jump, when the Clock Tower was just in sight, he spotted something strange out of the corner of his eye. He landed and turned, hearing his shoes scratch on the concrete, to look down at a quaint little restaurant. It was closer to a diner, really. The roof was bright yellow and the walls were made of red brick. The windows had lines of red paint and inside were yellow booth seats all filled with Gothamites.

This was a diner that Bruce would take Dick to when he aced his math tests. Dick would always order a shake and Bruce would always get coffee. Dick would slurp down the shake as fast as humanly possible and get a brain freeze. When Dick would ask to put the warm coffee cup to his head to aid his recovery, Bruce would go off on a medical rattle about how, “That won’t help, because a brain freeze doesn’t make icicles in your brain” Or something.

Nightwing stared at the restaurant in disbelief. This place was closed down over five years ago when it was destroyed by Poison Ivy. It had been taken over by new management that ran unethical cow farms. They had claimed that all the cows were “Free Range” but the cows were all packed into a fence too small for their numbers. 

That’s not the point though. The point is that this place shouldn’t be here. 

Nightwing turned to run towards the Clock Tower, but could get a good look at it from where he was. It was run down and abandoned. There were holes in the windows and walls, old moss overtaking the brick, and no sign of Oracle’s operations. 

Nightwing looked back down at his watch which showed no signal. 

Something’s wrong.

. . . . . . . . . .

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Amongst other things, Dick is a detective. After all, he was trained by the great Batman, and evidence suggests that maybe, possibly, he was definitely not hit by another flying spell.

The flying spell that hit him before had him flying for over half an hour, not to mention he was awake for all of it. Maybe he passed out due to G-Force, but that doesn’t explain all of the inconsistencies.

The thugs didn’t recognize him as Nightwing, what was once the factory was now an empty lot, the diner reappeared out of thin air, and the clocktower looked like it’s been out of use for years. 

Against his better judgment, Dick still chose to try the checkpoint. About a year ago, Batman installed checkpoints throughout the entire city for scenarios like this one. For when none of the vehicles could get to you and you needed a safe trip home. The checkpoints connected through the tunnels underneath the city (all of which connected to the Batcave) and took you there via bikes parked discreetly at the entrances.

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing arrived at a run-down and rusted phone booth. He was disappointed when he pulled back the curtain just to find it empty with no secret entrance. He knew, if his suspicions were correct, that there would probably be nothing here. Call it desperation, but he just had to check.

He frustratingly combed his fingers through his unkempt hair and grumbled in frustration. He shifted his weight from his heels to his toes and bounced on his toes a couple of times before walking to the entrance of the alley. He exited the alley and was met with the semi-lit-up street of Gotham. The roads were cracked, half the lights were out, but the sidewalks were still occupied by people walking back and forth. 

He walked down the sidewalk, searching for a newspaper booth of some kind. No one paid him any mind, as he suspected. One lady was walking her dog and gave him an odd look, but no one even made eye contact with him as he finally tracked down some newspapers. 

The booth was quaint and tucked in against a brick wall. A middle-aged man was running it, whose hair was thinning and beginning to lighten. His beard was stubble and he didn’t seem particularly interested in conversing.

He held his breath as he picked up the most recent paper and read the headline “Mr. Freeze put in Arkham after escaping”. The headline is not what interested Dick, however. He cringed as he got a look at the date. 7 years in the past.

Nightwing flipped to this week’s “Hottest Gotham Celebrities” and found that he wasn’t even in his top 3 spot like usual. I am definitely not in my time

He cursed and slammed the newspaper back on the booth. The man running the booth gave him a mean look. Nightwing pointed to the blue bird on his chest, “Do you know my name?”

“Why the hell would I know your name? Do you want a paper or not?”

Dick sighed and walked off.

So I was obviously hit with some sort of time travel spell. Dick was lost in thought as he prepped to hop onto the roof of a fire escape. Just as he reached up to grab the ladder, his ribs protested and he grunted. His hand immediately darted to his bruised ribs, lightly rubbing the skin to soothe them. If anything, it just made the pain worse. 

Dick looked up and saw a small market across the street. No point in keeping the suit on.

. . . . . . . . . .

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Dick entered the small market, suit still on, and tracked down a black jacket and some blue sweats. The hoodie was way too big for him and the sweats looked a little short, but it’s all he could find. He also snatched a small backpack.

The market smelled like incense and cigarettes. The bipolar smells made him gag a little. While making his way around the market, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He stopped in his tracks and walked back up to his reflection. He looked a bit off.

There were a couple of small scars missing from his face and his dimples were more prominent. He shrugged it off. There are more important things to worry about. 

Nightwing walked up to the counter and set down his items in front of the cashier. While she was scanning the items, he also tossed a protein bar on the small pile. She finished scanning and asked if he was paying with a card or cash. It’d be a little dumb to carry a credit card with the Wayne name on him while vigilante-ing, so he pulled out a couple of wadded twenties and gave them to her.

She didn’t even spare him a glance as she took the money and shooed him away. As he exited the store, he realized that the money probably had the wrong dates on them. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Quickly running off into an alley, he threw on his sweats and hoodie, stashed his weapons, and glanced around (out of habit) before taking off his domino and stashing it in the backpack as well. 

He pulled his hoodie over his head and exited the alley, walked down the street, and reflected on his situation.

I don’t know if this spell is temporary or if I’m stuck here, so the best thing to do is hunker down and collect some information. He took a sharp left at the corner of a block and began heading for the library. Once he arrived at his destination, he took a moment to appreciate the architecture. In his time, the library had been demolished several times by villains, so seeing it so clean and crack-free filled him with euphoria. 

The walls were white, with decorative grooves littered all over the front. Pillars held the overhang of the roof and the dark, wooden brown doors were opened. 

He made his way past the opened doors and felt the warmth of the library hit his face in stark contrast to the cold night. He made his way to the front desk. The librarian who was working spotted him and greeted him with a tight smile, “How can I help you?”

“I was hoping to access a computer.”

She gave him an odd look before pointing to the back of the library. A little confused on the computer location, Dick made his way past the shelves and turned a corner. He could do nothing but stare in horror at the old computers that the library kept. He slowly sat down in the library chair and turned the computer on. The chair was uncomfortable and dug into his back. He considered standing for a moment before his ribs protested him again. 

After five minutes of the computer booting up, he opened a web browser, rolled up his baggy sleeves, shoved the protein bar in his mouth, and began his search. The first thing he did was double-check the date (which was correct, he was indeed stuck in the past. Bummer). The next thing he did was research Batman. Dick couldn’t remember what the big bad bat was up to at this time, since Nightwing was running around with the Titans. 

He found fewer articles about the vigilante than he would have liked, but began to scroll nonetheless. At least, he tried to start scrolling. He moved the mouse, but the cursor didn’t move. He groaned at the old technology and slammed the mouse on the desk a few times before it began functioning. He scrolled until he saw an article from a week ago titled “New Dynamic Duo?”. Which was odd, because Dick would have been operating for at least 11 years at this point. 

He clicked on the video and saw a blurry picture of Batman, along with another blur alongside him. The blur sported darker colors mirroring the dark knight, but Dick could have sworn there were hints of red in the image. The new sidekick was noticeably shorter than Batman as well. The article hadn’t named the mysterious sidekick, but did theorize that they had been operating together for the past month. 

Dick thought for a moment before guessing that the sidekick was Jason. After all, Jason would be operating at this point. Not to mention it’s only four months before-

Dick stopped his thoughts in their tracks. He will be long gone before that unfortunate night will occur. Just to make sure, Dick looked at recent “Bruce Waye” media and found a headline to confirm his theory, “Bruce Wayne Takes On His First Ward”. Dick giggled over the typo. 

The whole thing did remind him of the space mission, which reminded him of the Titans. Dick did a quick search on Titan activity, only to discover that there was no mention of the “Teen Titans” anywhere. Not even in Jump City.

He researched all of his friends, but only found evidence of Kory’s existence. She was being held by the league. He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair in defeat. Everything he found just got more and more confusing. Batman only just now got a new sidekick, The Titans don’t exist, and I-

Dick slowly sat back up. If the Titans aren’t operating, what am I doing? He returned to the search engine and began researching Nightwing. He only found a book Superman published about an old Kryptonian legend and an 80s rock band. He continued his search, but didn’t find any article even mentioning his alter ego. He also searched for Robin, but still came up with nothing.

Swallowing his pride, Dick typed his own name “Dick Grayson” into the search bar. His eyes widened when he read the article that came up first.

. . . . . . . . . .

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Dick stared at the article.

“The Flying Grayson’s 12th Anniversary”.

The article is a week or two old, but still caught him off guard. He opened the article and read as the author spoke of the Flying Grayson’s last show. The author stated that she was actually present at the show, and spoke about how his parents soared. 

Dick felt his eyes begin to mist as the author described their gracefulness and how effortless they made flying seem. Dick’s eyes scanned the images attached to the article (they are mainly just posters) and gave a sad smile as his eyes fell on his mother’s face. Her eyes were a beautiful blue and contrasted with her dark hair. His father was beside her, with dimples to bring out his dazzling smile. Dick held his head in his hands as he felt tears begin to slide down his cheek. 

He gave himself a moment to collect himself before looking at the poster a little closer. The poster was decorated with red and gold, but only had two Graysons soaring. Dick was not in the poster. Dick rubbed his eyes solemnly as he finished the article. He wasn’t mentioned once. 

He forced himself to reopen the Bruce Wayne article. He read the reporter talk about how Bruce was “taking on his first ward” and whatnot. Dick sighed. 

This explains a lot. In this world, Jason was Batman’s first sidekick. In this world, the Flying Grayson’s bloodline ended. In this world, Dick didn’t exist. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick printed out the Flying Grayson article and took it from the printer. He quickly left the library (but not before slamming his change on the counter). He was once again out in the cold, but this time the numbness in his skin set in before the wind could get to it. He drew the strings of his hood taut in an attempt to hide himself as he made his way down the street. 

Dick had no identification, little money, and nowhere to stay. He was in some kind of alternate universe, sent back in time, and didn’t legally exist. Dick was by himself.

He sat on a bench and sighed. He carefully opened his backpack and gently lowered the article in to avoid crinkling it in any way. He leaned his head back on the rough brick of the building behind him. People who walked past paid him no mind. Dick didn’t care.

Snap out of it, Grayson . He steeled his eyes and began thinking of a game plan. His family was there when the magician blasted him, so they are probably working on a rescue mission as he sits on his butt not doing anything. All he has to do is stay alive until they get here. 

He thought for a moment about telling Bruce, about being able to stay in the manor, and about hanging out with a Jason who didn’t hate him. Then he thought about Batman sniffing him up and down and all the blood tests he’d have to take to prove his identity and shot down the idea. 

Dick lowered his head from the wall behind him as he hunched over. He lifted his gaze and spotted a coffee shop across from him with a neon “Hiring” sign hanging in the front. All he had to do was survive.

Survive and wait.

Batman would find him.

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Dick walked into the coffee shop unemployed and walked out with ten dollars in tips. He had asked for a job, and after being able to fix the espresso machine (without so much as a guide), he was hired. The place was a little run down and the employees were more sketchy than the customers, but the job paid in cash and no one asked him for ID.

He used his tips to buy a frame for his parent’s article. He knew he wouldn’t be here very long, but the article still felt special to him in an odd way. Then Dick went to one of Bruce’s old safe houses. I guess it would be new now . 

To his surprise, it was actually there. Since Dick wasn’t going to be in this universe for long (he hopes), he can utilize this safe house for the time being and just hope that Bruce doesn’t catch him. The safe house is located in the dead center of Gotham. The building was run down and only had a few inhabitants. Bruce rarely utilized the safe house, so Dick was less likely to get caught there.

Dick disabled the outdated security alarms with ease and slid into the small apartment through the window. The space was small, having just three rooms in the entire apartment. One larger room to house the kitchen and living room, a bedroom, and a connected bathroom. It’s smaller than his apartment, but it’s much cleaner. 

Dick tossed his backpack on the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the cabinets and found some canned foods. The fridge was empty, “Alright,” he decided to conversate with the dusty counters, “This food will last me mayyyybe a week, and then I can start buying groceries. Not that I’ll be here a week. Three days, tops. I’ll give B four days to find me.”

He walked back over to his backpack on the couch and ever so carefully pulled out the frame and the printed article. Without creasing it, he put the article into the frame and hung it right next to the front door. He stood and stared at the article for what felt like hours, but was just a couple of minutes before he finally tore his gaze away to focus on something else. 

He went over Bruce’s contingency plan for time travel in his head. 

1. Make sure you are in the past and check all your bases. Determine whether science or magic brought you there. 
2. Stay out of anyone’s way and don’t move until I find you and bring you home. 
3. Whatever you do, never ever mess with time.

Dick sighed and looked around his safe house. So far, so good. Just stick to the contingency.

He didn’t want the space to look lived in, since the bats might come into the safehouse, so Dick hid his belongings under the couch and crashed on the bed. It was grainy and uncomfortable, but he didn’t even notice as his heavy eyes closed, and he fell asleep quickly.

He just hoped he had a nice dream about his family finding him.

. . . . . . . . . .

It’s been two days since Dick was dropped in this universe. Still no sign of rescue. Batman and Robin stopped an Arkham Breakout last night, which was interesting to watch as a civilian. When he said he didn’t have one, one of his co-workers shoved a gas mask in his hands. He didn’t know civilians carried them like second IDs. 

His job is going well and he’s been using his extra tip money to buy more clothes. His co-workers would probably find it weird if he kept wearing the same outfit. Not that he’d be here much longer. He’s just being prepared. 

. . . . . . . . . .

It’s been a week since Dick was dropped in this universe. Batgirl made her debut. Still no signs of rescue.

He was working a typical day shift when his shift partner decided to converse, “Did you know Bruce Wayne is apparently building a new satellite?”

This caught Dick’s attention, “Really?” Dick set down the coffee cup he had been decorating with caramel and turned to face his worker who was adding more coffee beans to the machine.

His partner turned to him, “Yeah. They’re launching it today. Probably gonna sell some kind of Wayne Industries router for faster internet or something.”

His shift partner kept talking, but Dick couldn’t hear him. If Bruce launched a new satellite, then maybe it would be one that his wristwatch could connect to. Maybe his family sent him a message that he could read. Maybe he can send a message that they can read. 

He couldn’t be happier to be leaving work that day. He practically sprinted to his apartment the safe house. He threw the door open and didn’t bother closing it as he b-lined it for his pile of belongings. 

He had an unbreakable smile on his face as he searched for his wristwatch. When he found it, he quickly powered it on and waited. He had two bars. His breath was caught in his throat. He had a signal. He practically leaped out of his window as he shimmied up the fire escape to the roof. He didn’t even bother to use the stairs as he climbed up the side. 

Dick felt the breeze blowing gently through his hair as he pulled himself over the lip of the roof. He turned on his wristwatch once more. 

He had one new message.

He quickly opened it, grinning ear to ear. He quickly hit play, “This is a test for the Wayne Industries Satellite. If you received this message, you are in the inner circle of Gotham’s Knight. Inform me that the signal is working immediately.”

Dick’s smile dropped, “No, no, no…”

He smacked his wristwatch and opened random settings he didn’t recognize, trying to find something else, anything else. There has to be another message. Bruce could not have abandoned me here.

When he couldn’t find any other messages, he quickly tried sending his own message. The only people he could contact were Bruce and Jason. The wristwatch was limited, as the technology was not yet up to date with the future. Dick panicked as he kept hitting buttons. There has to be a way to contact Bruce.

After about five minutes of scrolling through settings, Dick just stopped. His hand hovered over the screen. Dick slowly lowered the watch, his gaze landing on the horizon. Through the smog, you could barely see the orange peeking through as the sunset. 

Dick slowly made his way to the fire escape. He carefully took the stairs one at a time, until he reached his apartment. He climbed through the window and stood in the center of the living space. He scanned the apartment. He had belongings strung all over the couch. His backpack was discarded under piles of clothing. The rest of the apartment was barely touched, since Dick had done his best not to make a mess. The only thing out of place was the Flying Grayson article. He slowly made his way to it. 

His parents were smiling once more, but Dick was not in the picture. Dick wasn’t in the article. Dick wasn’t in this universe. 

Dick whipped around the threw his wristwatch as hard as he could into the opposing wall. It hit the wall with a large SMACK , but didn’t so much as crack as it knocked over a potted plant on its way down. Curse Bruce and his efficiency.

Dick’s back hit the wall as he slid down onto the floor. He held his head in his hands and willed himself to keep it together.

I’m stuck here.

There’s no rescue coming.

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Bruce wasn’t coming. Dick was on his own. 

It has been a couple of days since Bruce launched his satellite. Unfortunately, it has not been a productive couple of days. He had a good cry in the shower and now Dick was ready to begin planning. If I’m stuck here, I will make the most of it.

The first thing he needs is a new apartment. This one is fine, but Batman will discover him here soon enough. Dick wasn’t planning on moving very far, though. 

Dick sat on the couch as he packed his belongings. It would be a tight fit, but he knew he could get everything in the black backpack if he tried hard enough. He carefully folded the clothing only to roughly shove them into the backpack. His movements became robotic as Dick was lost in his thoughts. A shirt, a pair of pants, some socks. He lost track as he thought up a plan in his head.

Bruce had dozens of safe houses throughout the city. Some high, some low, some high class, and some low class. Some of those apartments are directly across the hall from another apartment. If the safe house was used often enough, Bruce would buy the one across the hall to keep away nosy neighbors. Dick just had to track one of those apartments down and set up shop. 

Once Dick had finished shoving all his clothing in the backpack, he moved to zip it. He got the zipper about two inches before it got stuck, unable to close the overstuffed bag. He grumbled as he undid the zipper and rezipped it only to get stuck again, “Son of a-”

He yanked the two sides of the zipper together and pulled.

. . . . . . . . . .

After a good five minutes of pulling and some pretty purple indents on his hands, the backpack finally zipped shut. He released all of the air in his chest with a sigh of relief and slumped against the couch. His neck rested on the couch’s back as his head hung loosely over it. He studied the ceiling and went over Bruce’s contingency.

1. Make sure you are in the past and check all your bases. Determine whether science or magic brought you there. 

Definitely in the past, but also an alternate universe. Definitely a magic trick.

2. Stay out of anyone’s way and don’t move until I find you and bring you home. 

Rescue’s not coming and I need to move.

3. Whatever you do, never ever mess with time.

Well, …rules are for losers anyway.

Dick shot up off the couch and readied his Nightwing suit. He pulled on his top before stepping into his pants. He secured his utility belt and grappling hook before picking up his wristwatch from the edge of the room and reluctantly putting it on. Dick’s gaze followed his suit’s stripes, stretching to his fingers as his wristwatch burst to life. It showed an open comm line. I should try to hack into that later.

Dick threw on a jacket and a pair of sweats that didn’t fit in the backpack over his Nightwing uniform. He secured his Escrima sticks to his back and threw on the backpack. He walked up to the framed article of his parents and carefully took it off the wall. No way was he leaving it behind. Dick stepped up to the window and took one last look at the apartment. He wouldn’t miss it, but couldn’t hurt to be at least a little sentimental. Dick waved goodbye before securing his domino mask, as Nightwing stepped through the window and took off into the night. 

. . . . . . . . . .

It took three different safe houses and an incident with an alley cat he’d rather not talk about, but Nightwing finally found one of the apartment complexes he was looking for. It was fairly nice for what part of town it resided in. 

Nightwing carefully landed on the fire escape. He carefully peered through the window to check for bats. When he found none, Nightwing disabled the security alarms much like he did the last apartment, if not quicker. He quietly slipped into the apartment. It was more decorated than the last safehouse, with modern art on the walls and a nicer couch. There was also a plant.

Though he was pretty sure it was a safe house from the locking system, Nightwing still needed to be sure. He walked down the hallway to the bedroom and located a dresser in the corner. All of the drawers were empty. He pulled the last drawer off its track and found a stash of batarangs hidden underneath it. 

Bingo.

Nightwing stashed a couple before putting the drawer back. Now that Nightwing knew the apartment was rented out by Bruce, the last thing he needed to do was check the one across the hall. Nightwing walked back into the open living space and opened the apartment door. He quickly took off his domino once he entered the hall.

Dick peered around the corner to find no residents. Awake residents that is. It’s two in the morning, so no one in their right mind should be awake. I’m no exception Dick laughed to himself. Dick carefully crossed the hallway to the apartment across from the safe house. He held his breath as he tried to open the door, forgetting that it would obviously be locked. Dick sighed and glanced around for prying eyes before he quickly squatted down and easily lockpicked the door. The door creaked open partly. Dick kindly opened it the rest of the way to take in the living space. 

It was just as large as the last apartment, but much more barren. There was dust gathering on the floor from misuse and a dusty old couch with no TV. The kitchen’s microwave had no power and the windows had old curtains that did little to block the moonlight that peaked in through the clouds. The main space had a single window and an attached kitchen that housed a microwave, sink, and oven. The counter space wasn’t very large, but it was usable. The hallway to his left led to the bathroom and bedroom. The bathroom was just as unused, but was surprisingly clean. The only thing there was a first-aid kit that only had bare necessities in it. The bedroom didn’t even have a dresser. Just a twin bed in the middle. 

Dick sighed. At least I won’t be paying rent.

He tossed the backpack onto the bed and made his way back into the living room. He took off his sweats, but left on the jacket as he turned on his wristwatch. He fiddled with it for a bit, becoming familiar with the settings and trying to figure out what he could do with the limited technology of this decade. He eventually came back to the comms line. Batman and Robin were still online (though they were probably wrapping up patrol). Let’s see if I can anonymously listen in…

Dick considers himself a techwiz. Not near the level of Barbara or Tim, but they aren’t active with the family yet, so Dick had no problem connecting to the comm line without alerting Bruce or Alfred that someone was listening in. 

Jason’s voice immediately erupted over the comms, “But I don’t want to ‘turn in’ yet, old man! There’s still bad guys out here!”

The first thing that stood out was how young Jason sounded. He sounded unburdened, happy, and full of energy. Dick had almost forgotten how lively Jason was as Robin. Jason continued to whine over the comms as Bruce was threatening to bench him if he didn’t report back to the cave. Jason and Bruce just kept going back and forth, but there was no bite to any of their words. They were playfully exchanging banter. 

Dick allowed their voices to wash over him. He sunk into the couch and giggled as Bruce began to threaten Jason by taking away his books. They only stopped when Alfred scolded them, “This is Agent A speaking. Flying Ace, you have school in the morning. I also believe that you have an important meeting as well, Batman.”

“But-” Jason protested at the same time Bruce began, “Don’t be rash-”

But Alfred just muted both of their comms, ending the argument quickly. Dick laughed before disconnecting the call as well. 

Dick was seven years in the past. Things could be different. Dick could change everything. 

Dick will save them.

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing re-entered his apartment with a shiver. He practically leaped back in through the window and started to shake off the snow. He forgot how cold Gotham got in the winter. He didn’t have the luxury of his thermal suit anymore and Nightwing is just realizing how spoiled he was.

Nightwing took off the domino and Dick quickly threw on his padded leather jacket. It provided more warmth than he expected, so he opted to wear it out on the field until summer came. Or until the city is engulfed in flames .

Dick opened his backpack (that he has neglected to unpack) for some warm thermal socks as well, but could only find one of the pair. “Perfect,” he muttered. He settled for regular socks to keep his feet warm. 

He tried to shake off his bone-deep coldness as he sat on the couch. He began to take inventory. He had a good number of wing-dings, a few batarangs he managed to snatch, a few smoke bombs, and some smaller tools that were stashed in his belt. He still had a fully functioning grappling hook and his electrified Escrima sticks, but he had to charge them with a phone charger for now. Which was a shame, as they took forever to charge. Longer than his burner phone. Without the cave to restock, he would have to use his gadgets sparingly. 

It took him back to his early days as Nightwing. When he and Bruce weren’t on speaking terms and Dick had nothing but the clothes on his back. He smiled a bit at how sentimental he has been. Being thrown into the past does that to a guy I guess.

He focused on the newspaper clippings scattered on the floor in front of the couch. They were all records of his family. Barbara Gordon made her debut as Batgirl weeks ago, Jason Todd was Bruce Wayne’s ward, Timothy Drake was the heir to Drake Industries, Stephanie Brown’s dad was thrown in prison last week, and Dick hadn’t been able to find any evidence of either Cassandra or Damian. 

Dick knew in his heart they were both out there. He had no clue where Cassandra was and doubted it would be long before she popped up. As for Damian, Dick knew exactly where he was. 

Nanda Parbat.

As much as Dick longed to go kick down Ra's door and take Damian as far away from him and Talia as possible, Dick knew that he was only one man. If he was going to rescue Damian, he would need the full force of the Bataclan. He won’t be able to recruit the BatClan until he has evidence, though. Especially if he wants to keep Bruce out of the loop of his existence and all. 

With a heavy heart, he put Damian’s evidence into a folder and closed it (he put a single map clipping of Nanda Parbat in the folder). The remaining clippings also had some sightings of his friends appearing around the country. Wally made his debut along with Star Fire, who was released from Justice League custody to thrive as a hero. Dick smiled. He picked up a stolen picture of Batgirl swinging between rooftops.

He was going to save his family one way or another. He would make sure Barbara would walk, that Tim would be taken away from his abusive household, he would save Jason from his fate at the hands of the Joker, Steph would be safe from her father, Cassandra would be safe under Bruce’s guidance, and Damian would be rescued from the league. He would do all of it his own way, “I guess it’ll be for me to decide,” he murmured into the darkness.

Time to start messing with… well, time.

. . . . . . . . . .

Flying Ace practically toppled into the safe house. He hopped back up and slammed the window shut behind him. So maybe going on solo patrol was a bad idea, big whup.

He turned around and nearly tripped over a plant that had been knocked over. Weird. As he pulled off his domino, Jason hopped over the plant and made his way to the kitchen. His arm was screaming to be treated, but his stomach was screaming louder. Luckily, Bruce always kept his safehouse stocked with-

Jason stared at the empty cabinets in disbelief. This fridge was also empty. Jason groaned as he made his way to the bathroom for the first aid kit. As he crouched down near the sink to reach for the kit, Jason caught the sight of a piece of clothing in his peripheral vision. 

He grabbed the first aid kit first, before turning to find a lone, thermal sock resting on the bathroom floor. It was black with blue stripes and smelled disgusting, but that wasn’t the weird part.

Someone’s been here.

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Nightwing, as quietly as he can manage, lands next to the Gordon’s apartment window. He runs his hands along the glass. The window is rather small, but Nightwing could still easily slip in (to be honest he could probably fit anywhere his head could). The surprisingly clear glass peaked into the living room of the apartment. The moonlight that had spilled onto the carpet is now covered by Nightwing’s shadow as he approaches the sill.

As Nightwing suspected, the window was protected by nothing but a simple padlock. He bent down to lock-pick the lock, unlocking the window in less than a minute. He silently lifted the window and slipped into the apartment like a shadow. 

Nightwing paused in his B-line for the kitchen and took a moment to truly drink in the apartment. He had forgotten the couch once faced the entryway. He had forgotten the TV used to have a stand. He had almost forgotten Barbara ever lived in this apartment with her father. Dick had nearly forgotten all the memories he made here with her.

Memories of late movie nights and throwing popcorn at each other fluttered through Nightwing’s brain as he roamed the apartment. They tried making a pizza together once. Dick had added too much spice to the sauce and it was rendered inedible. Once Barbara had asked him over for help with her homework, but they ended up playing videogames together instead. He had asked for a kiss in this apartment. He had received it. 

It was a dumb, childhood crush. But it was one Dick wouldn’t have changed for the world. Because once upon a time, Barbara was his world. She still is, but in a different context. Hence the little “Breaking & Entering”.

Two days ago, BatGirl made contact with Batman and became an official bat. Knowing Bruce’s “Mother Hen” tendencies, Dick would bet his trust fund that he was already working on scoping out Barbara’s apartment to ensure her safety. A task he would take even more seriously ( considering that’s possible ) if some random guy happened to break in. Like right now.

Nightwing finally made his way into her kitchen. He opened the cabinets and cringed at the cereal selection, “Red Berries and Cornflakes? Seriously, Babs?”

Nightwing sighed and locked away a lecture for later as he reached in and grabbed the box of “Red Berries”. He helped himself to a bowl and some milk before plopping himself up onto the counter to eat his “breakfast”. Nothing like a bowl of cereal at two in the morning.

In his universe, the Joker had broken into this very apartment and shot Barbara in the spine, crippling her. Nightwing was going to make sure this place was locked down. And maybe have a little fun in the meantime .

Nightwing finished off his first serving and poured himself another. He hadn’t had a real meal in a couple of days. 

All there is to do now is wait.

. . . . . . . . . .

Barbara woke up with a start. She didn’t know what had woken her, but all she knew was she already had a headache. She floundered in the dark, grabbing her contact lenses. She hefted herself into the bathroom to put them in, only to find it empty. She suppressed a sigh before dragging herself back into her bedroom and putting on her lime-green glasses. They weren’t the most flattering, but her vision was no longer blurry. 

Dragging herself out of the bedroom and back into the bathroom, Barbara brushed her teeth and brushed through her red locks. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail before her stomach began to grumble at her. 

Barbara exited the bathroom and made her way into the living room, heading for the kitchen. She heard a “clink” and stopped dead in her tracks. Is Dad home?

Her Dad had called her yesterday, saying that Mr. Freeze was on the loose and he would be pulling an all-nighter at the police station. She should be the only one home or awake. Barbara peeked around the corner to see a dark figure… sitting on her counter?

He wore a padded leather jacket, black kevlar, stripes of blue on his calves, and sported two sticks on his back. The stranger froze and set the bowl down beside him. He slowly turned to face Barbara, who was frozen in place in the living room. His face revealed a domino mask, not unlike the one Flying Ace wears.

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing stared at Barbara. Barbara stared at Nightwing. She wasn’t moving. Nightwing slapped on his best smug smile, “Hi-”

Before he could get a word out, Barbara screamed, reached for the coffee table, and threw a mug at him. Nightwing slid off the counter, caught the mug mid-air, and carefully set it on the counter, “I see you’re not in the mood to talk.”

Barbara charged him with an umbrella ( where did she get that? ) and Nightwing just easily dodged and weaved through her attacks. She was screaming things like, “Get out!” and “Creep!”. Apparently, she wasn’t happy to see him. Which was part of the plan. 

Nightwing slid out of the way of her umbrella, “You know, your cereal choices suck,” he ducked when she threw a pan, “You ever think buying some Captain Crunch or Lucky Charms?” He shot her a smug smile, only for her to hit him square in the face with a pot. Nightwing quickly retreated to the window and threw a, “You should rethink security!” before sliding into the night.

. . . . . . . . . .

Barbara huffed as soon as the shadow left through the window. She stood in her kitchen, frozen, with an umbrella in her hand.

The microwave beeped, causing her to jump and smack it with the umbrella. As soon as her nerves cooled enough, she opened the microwave to find some fresh popcorn. Which was strange, because she didn’t remember having popcorn in the apartment. She sighed and shut the microwave door. 

The apartment was thrashed. There were pots and pans everywhere, bits of cereal on the floor, and the mysterious man had tracked mud all over the living room. Barbara began to pick up the pots before something caught her eye. 

The bowl the man had set down.

It was empty with milk residue in the bottom. Next to the bowl sat an empty cereal box. He ate all of the cereal. He ate all of her cereal, “oh, hell no.”

She stormed back into her room for her communicator. Time to call in the big guns.

. . . . . . . . . .

It’s been a couple of days since his first meeting with the all-knowing-but-no-longer-all-knowing Barbara and Dick is currently sitting on the roof of an apartment building adjacent to hers. He had one knee pulled up and rested his forearm on it. A few minutes after he had left the B&E (breaking and entering), Barbara had contacted Bruce. Bruce then came over immediately to update her security. It made Nightwing smile. 

Bruce was a different man before Jason had died. He was more open about his need to protect his family. He was also slower about it. It seriously took The Batman two days to install a security system? Ridiculous. 

Nightwing slid from the lid of the roof and carefully landed on the Gordon’s fire escape once more. He crouched down to overlook the new window. He whistled as he looked over the new locking system. It was high-tech for the time. Nightwing studied the compact lock and gave it a nod of approval. 

Once his glance over was done, Nightwing rose to his full height. The only way anyone was getting through this lock was if they were a tech wiz. He doubted the Red Hood could get through this. Even if they did manage, they wouldn’t be able to unlock it without alerting Batman that someone is fiddling with it. Unless they were familiar with Batman’s technology.

Nightwing leaped off the fire escape with grace as he departed from the neighborhood. He would return to his apartment, get a good night’s sleep, go to work, and add to his plane ticket savings.

One bat down.

. . . . . . . . . .

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Tim uncomfortably shifted against the concrete wall. He was on a ledge of one of the taller buildings in Gotham. Most kids his age would probably be nervous so close to the edge, as one of his feet dangles over it, but Tim finds peace in the solitude. Gotham is a cesspool for crime, but up above the city, he can find a strange sense of tranquility. Tim closed his eyes and rested the back of his head on the wall once more. 

He could still hear the sounds of cars honking, construction work, and even ringing church bells announcing the life of the city, but Tim drowned out the loud noises in favor of the wind whistling in his ears. It was an unusually quiet night. When his parents were out of town like this, Tim liked to run along the rooftops, hoping to catch a cape. 

His camera sat carefully in his lap. No sightings tonight. He cracked his eyes open to put the cap back onto his camera in defeat. As Tim shifted forward to sit Indian-style and pack up, he heard the sound of a grapple firing. Tim was startled and almost dropped his camera. He scrambled to (carefully) rip off the cap and get ready to snap a picture. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he spotted a shadowy figure leaping from roof to roof. Before he could think twice, Tim snapped a blurry photo of the vigilante before he flipped out of sight. Wait… he flipped?

Tim looked at the photo with confusion. He swiped the hair from his face as he lowered himself out of the glare of the building’s display lights and pulled up the photo he had taken. It was unfocused, definitely rushed, and didn’t even center the vigilante in the center of the frame. There was a blur of blue near the vigilante’s chest, which was strange since Batman never wore anything other than black and really, really dark gray. Batman also never took nearly as much grace to the rooftops. 

There was a new vigilante in town. Tim was going to figure out who he was. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick huffed and bent over to catch his breath. He had run all the way from his apartment to the fundraiser party venue without stopping. Sure, he was a vigilante in great shape, but running was still running. When he had finally caught his breath, Dick straightened himself and adjusted the bowtie he had on over his suit. 

Tonight was a fundraiser hosted by Bruce Wayne himself. Events like these were rare, but that only guaranteed certain attendees. Like the Drakes. 

Dick hasn’t been able to spot him at night yet, but he was pretty convinced that Tim was running around patrolling in this universe. The only good pictures encircling the internet (there are three) are in his signature style, so Dick is taking a safe bet that Tim took them. 

Speaking of Tim’s patrols, Dick should probably make an effort to not let him spot Nightwing. He’d never stay off the bat’s radar if Tim was breathing down his neck. 

Dick had to crane his neck as he looked up at the building. He was at the street level, just outside the entrance, which was swarming with rich men and women in fancy suits. They wore gorgeous jewelry that cost more than his apartment (If he wasn’t mooching off Bruce Wayne). Dick silently slipped through the crowd of socialites towards the entrance. He walked past men, women, white, black. None of them had any real faces to him. When he eventually looks back at the people he saw there, they all come back faceless without any distinctive features. All just playing a pawn, all trying to fit in, all trying to imitate the next one on the social ladder. 

As he gets closer to the entrance, Dick does try to bring his mind back to himself and recognize some of the people there. He recognizes neither a Drake nor a Wayne and continues his path toward the entrance. He only stopped when he observed a doorman checking the guest’s IDs. Dick quickly swerved to his left, slipping past the crowd of people once more. 

He spotted a couple of workers in suits entering the party from a side door. Dick reached into his pocket to quickly throw on his domino, to fit in with the rest of the catering staff. He secured the black domino to his face. The domino was not as secure as he would like without glue, but it would at least last the duration of the party (especially when he usually spends these just standing and talking). 

Dick quickly grabbed a serving tray and slipped in behind one of the waiters. Usually, blending in with the staff would be the perfect way to sneak into any party (without a playboy persona like “Brucie Wayne”), but this party’s staff was more than likely hired by Alfred himself. If Dick was going to survive the night, he would need to avoid his pseudo-grandfather at all costs. 

Dick entered a bright room, in contrast to the dark, cold night. The room was brightly lit, but sported dark walls and a counter space made of warm, dark wood. He saw waiters running around like headless chickens, back and forth across the room, searching for the things they needed. All were dressed in tuxedos with bow ties, sporting a domino on their face.

Bruce usually has his staff dressed like this. The simple uniform with a disguise makes it easy for Alfred (and any bats) to sneak into the event unnoticed should the need come. This allows for easier information gathering. 

Dick fit right in as he approached one of the counters. He lifted his server tray and began placing hors d'oeuvres onto the cool, metal surface. Dick specifically chose the shrimp cocktail, as he once heard Tim say it was the only reason he stuck around these things. 

Dick likes to think of himself as a strategist, but this time he did not have much of a plan. His original plan for Tim was to meet him out on patrol and slowly push him toward the Bats (Dick is assuming Tim does not know Bruce’s identity yet since Dick was not there to do fancy backflips). Until Dick heard about the fundraiser. He saw the golden opportunity and took it. Now he is dressed in an uncomfortable suit, just hoping to find his brother. 

His best bet was to get Tim on Bruce’s radar. Hopefully, Bruce will notice Tim is attention-deprived and look after him. Maybe I’m relying too much on luck for this. 

As Dick carefully placed his last shrimp cocktail on the tray, he heard a familiar voice carry itself across the room. Lo and behold, Alfred had entered the room and was now bringing the panic to a calm. Dick turned around, not fast enough to catch his attention, but quick enough to almost drop his tray. Dick quickly restabilized his carefully crafted tray of shrimp and scanned Alfred’s appearance once more. 

He was younger. His hair was sporting splotches of crisp silver, but he sported fewer wrinkles on his face. His frame was stronger as well. It was not enough to take Dick by surprise, but just enough to remind him of a simpler time. Alfred noticed his staring, but before he could find the culprit, Dick slipped out of another door and into the ballroom.

Dick could almost roll his eyes at the slow, sappy music that was playing. He summoned all the strength he had to resist the urge as he filtered through the crowd, searching for his younger brother. 

An old man here, a young woman there, until he finally spotted the Drakes. Jack Drake and Janet Drake stood in the corner of the room, talking to some more well-known socialites. Timothy sat in between them, with his mother’s hand on his shoulder. Janet Drake had a practiced smile on her face, politely nodding her head along as she listened to the conversation. Jack Drake had a similar face, but was actually commenting rather than only listening. Tim had a smile as well, but it was more obviously not reaching his eyes. 

Dick felt his grip tighten on his tray. He quickly relaxed it, before performing his duties as a “waiter”. 

After what felt like an eternity of smiling and handing out food, Tim’s parents finally left him to stand in the corner as they went to entertain the guests. Dick had two shrimp cocktails remaining on his tray as he made his way to the corner of the room. Dick made his stride long and slow, hoping to catch the bat’s attention as he did so.

Tim noticed his approach and gave a polite smile as Dick came to a stop in front of him. Dick returned Tim’s polite smile, “May I interest you in any hors-d'œuvre?”

Tim was a bit surprised, but gave a small smile as he picked up one of the small glasses of shrimp. Tim gave him an innocent look, but Dick knew what he was really doing. Every bat had an “analyzing target” look. Bruce would drop the smile and slightly narrow his eyes, Jason would scowl and squint, and Damian would give you a death glare. Tim was different. Tim had no definitive “analytical face”. He was constantly analyzing everything, always putting together the pieces in his head, and it was incredible.

It was also incredibly scary when you don’t actually work here. 

Dick shook off his anxiety, “Where are your parents?”

Tim huffed, “Not here anymore.”

Dick nodded his head along, “Does that upset you?” 

Tim hesitated before responding with, “It does.”

It felt so good to hear his brother’s voice again. He sounded young now, before his voice had deepened (It never truly deepened, not like Jason, but it deepened). He had a gravely way of speaking. He spoke like an old man who had experienced one too many years of life. Yet, Tim still had a youthful way of bouncing through his words in a way that was just… Tim.

As they spoke (Tim ranted and Dick listened), Dick was trying to spot Bruce. He still did not have much of a plan in his head, but he did know Bruce should hear about Tim’s living situation. His eyes darted across the room as Tim talked about his latest school project on Wayne Tech. Dick spotted Bruce talking to a large group of socialites. Well, shoot.

There was no way Dick would be able to peel Bruce away from his bubble.

As Dick was fully engrossed by Bruce, he did not notice the small figure approach from his left. Dick all but jumped when a high-pitched voice breached his thoughts, “There you are!”

Dick whipped his head around to see none other than Jason Todd himself point to Tim, “I’ve been looking all over for you! Come on, let’s go.”

Before Dick could process the situation, Jason was dragging away a very confused Timothy. As they departed, Dick could barely hear Jason stage whisper, “Trust me, dude. I’m doing you a favor.”

Tim had given back a rebuttal, but Dick did not hear it as he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Dick turned around hoping to see Bruce, only to be hit by the cold, angry glare of Alfred himself. Before he even had a chance to panic, Dick was dragged away by Alfred (lectured the entire way there). 

The cool night air hit his face as Alfred all but threw him out of the venue. Dick hit the concrete with his hands and rolled forward to land properly on his hands and knees. 

He heard the door slam shut behind him.

Damn it.

. . . . . . . . . .

Jason dragged the twig disguised as a boy through the party. They weaved around socialites as he ignored the boy’s shouts and protests. 

Jason had finally managed to peel away from Bruce when he saw this creepy dude talking to a boy he didn’t know. He asked Alfred if he was a part of the staff and immediately ran over to help the boy when Alfred didn’t recognize him. Bruce would definitely need to update his security if someone managed to sneak in like that. Especially if they’re trying to limit how many bad guys crash these things. 

Jason threw a quick look over his shoulder. When he saw that the creepy dude had been taken care of (probably by Alfred), he finally slowed his pace. It was then that he realized just how much of a struggle the boy was making. 

Jason came to a stop and quickly let the boy go. The mysterious boy’s hand flew to his shoulder as he rubbed it with a pained expression.

Jason winced.

Ever since he started training with his dad, Jason’s become much stronger. He always forgets how strong he is when he squeezes a juice box too hard or violently grabs a skinny kid by the shoulder and drags him across the room without warning, he quickly breaks out of his thoughts “Sorry!”

The boy’s attention is immediately directed to Jason, “What was that for,” The boy flung his hands around when he spoke, gesturing to the scene he was dragged away from, “I was having a nice conversation, thank you very much.”

The twig crossed his arms and pouted. He could be no older than 13, but that was not what Jason was stuck on. He was enjoying his conversation with- that weirdo!

“That guy was a creepo! I was doing you a favor,” It was Jason’s turn to cross his arms as the young boy began sputtering.

“At least he wanted to talk to me and not through me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The twig sighed, “Everyone is always trying to get through me to my parents. At least that creep asked me if I was upset.”

“Are you upset?”

Twig looked at him, surprised, “I guess I am. What’s your name, anyway? So I’m not talking to another creep.”

Jason gave a smug smile, “Name’s Jason Todd-Wayne.”

“ The Jason Wayne?”

“The one and only.”

The boy reached out a hand, “Tim Drake.”

“Wanna go get ice cream?”

“Right now?”

“I’m sure Alfred can find a way to sneak us out of here.”

The boy laughed, “Sure.”

The two boys turned towards the door to leave. Jason motioned for Tim to stop as he grew a strange feeling in his gut. He first felt the heat on his face before an explosion erupted throughout the room. He immediately threw himself over Tim to protect him as rubble began to descend from the roof. 

Almost immediately after the explosion went off, everything began to settle down. Socialites grumbled and complained as they filed out of the room in a practiced formation. Jason couldn’t exactly blame their attitude. This is the third time this month.

Jason tried to shake the ringing in his ears as he pushed Tim towards the exit. Batman should be able to take care of this guy. All I have to do is get all the citizens out…

The pair scurried towards the exit when Batman had finally arrived. Tim kept trying to go back, yelling something about a camera. Jason tuned him out as he brought all of the civilians to safety. When the coast seemed clear, Jason looked back to see Batman pinned. He grumbled and shoved Tim through the door, “Sorry! I left- my drink!”

Jason slammed the door shut and locked it. Left my drink? What kind of excuse was that?

Flying Ace was already changing into his uniform as he ran back in for his partner.

. . . . . . . . . .

Tim knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew before he picked the lock on the large ballroom door. Now, he’s dodging debris and flying tables trying to retrieve his backpack. Tim ducked under a chair and slid under a table to grab his bag. He technically doesn’t need to hide it from his parents, but he enjoys feeling like a rebel.

Once Tim secured his bag, he turned to leave. He only took two steps before a terrible idea crossed his mind. I mean… when will I get another chance like this?

Tim pulled out his camera and secured it around his neck. Batman was still pinned by the large villain, stuck between a wall and a table the bad guy was pushing into him. Tim figured it would be rude to take any pictures of that , so he turned his attention to the sidekick. 

Flying Ace was throwing batterangs at the villain, shouting, “Drop it!” as he attempted to loosen the villain’s grip on the table. When an exploding batterang knocked the villain over, he quickly retreated to the other side of the room.

Flying Ace quickly ran to Batman’s side. Batman only took a second to check his injuries before turning to his sidekick and looking him over for bruises.

There!

Tim snapped a photo of Batman holding his sidekick’s shoulders. Batman and Flying Ace have a bond like no other… Tim stared at the photo longingly. His consciousness came back to him as the villain ran his way. Tim yelped as the villain grabbed him by his shirt. 

The villain laughed as he lifted Tim in the air. His breath smelled horrible, “You need to brush your teeth more!”

The villain gave an offended scoff, “Shut it, shrimp.”

Tim, whose turn it was to be offended, turned on his camera’s flash and took a picture of the villain’s face. The villain, now confused and blind, easily dropped Tim to cradle his eyes.

Before Tim could react, he was scooped up and taken away as Batman punched the villain. Flying Ace wasted no time lecturing him, “What are you doing here? I told- You’re not supposed to be here!”

Tim shook his head, trying to make his brain work again. Once his thoughts settled, he turned to the hero in disbelief. His jaw dropped and he just… Stared. 

That’s Flying Ace. The Flying Ace. Not only has Tim met Jason Wayne-Todd today, but he also met his hero! Tim’s eyes locked onto Ace’s wristwatch, “I must be dreaming,” He muttered.

“Well, wake up!” The sidekick continued his lecture.

Flying Ace was rambling about something, but Tim had trouble paying attention. He studied the wrist-watch. He recognized the design. The simplicity of the UI, the shape of the screen, the way it lit up when Batman called for assistance, “Is that Wayne Tech?”

Jason looked up from his wristwatch in surprise. Bingo , “What? Don’t be ridiculous! It’s Bat-Tech.”

Tim rolled his eyes. 

Flying Ace shoved him out of the way of another flying table before whipping around and shoving his finger in Tim’s face, “Listen bud, you need to get out of here so I can take care of the bad guy!”

Tim quickly nodded his head and fled the room. He ran as fast as he could, immediately out of breath, as he heard crashes and screams. He ran until his parents found him, when he was whisked away in their limo.

His mother dropped her smile and groaned, “It’s every time with the explosions. We should stop coming.”

His father gave her a look, “You know better than I do that we will never miss a Wayne gala.”

Tim began to tune them out, putting his camera back in his bag and thinking.

They have Wayne Tech…

. . . . . . . . . .

Tim took a step back and looked at his board. Pictures of Batman and Ace were scattered around the wall. The red string tied the photos together. In the middle was a photo of Ace’s wristwatch.

Wayne Tech.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

. . . . . . . . . .

Chapter Text

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Dick rinsed the frother with a yawn. He had not gotten nearly enough sleep last night, again, and is paying the price for it. 

He set down the frother and began rinsing the sink. The soapy water swirled down the drain as he sprayed down the bubbles. Once the sink was clean, Dick returned to the counter to find… no customers. 

Dick stifled a groan as he grabbed the spray cleaner and a rag. Business had been slow. Sure, it was nice to be able to relax, but Dick was bored out of his mind, especially since his shift partner called in sick.

He scrubbed the tables as sounds of the coffee shop washed over him. The TV was humming on a low volume, the news channel on as always. The lady on screen was once more talking about the Dark Knight, trying to theorize his secrets and learn his identity. 

Ever since Flying Ace’s debut, Batman was seen less as a myth and more as a fact of life. Jason helped to level out Bruce’s brooding with his jokes and lighthearted nature. 

Jason.

Dick had managed to save Babrara’s spine, but he was unsure about Tim. Not to mention Jason. He’s been stuck in this universe for two months now, and he had no idea when the Ethiopia trip took place, but he knew it was soon. That scared him. 

Dick had a jar in his “apartment” that was full of tips and half of his paychecks. He was saving for a plane ticket. Nightwing was going to save his little brother.

All of that put aside, Dick was going to have to run inventory soon. He was running low on wingdings, smoke bombs, and his domino mask was running out of battery. Unlike his wrist watch, which ran off of solar power, Dick’s domino had to be recharged.  Should really get Bruce to fix it when I’m back home.

Dick did not have access to the cave anymore, so he did not have the ability to recharge any of his gear. As a last ditch effort, Dick powered down his domino and has been saving the battery for something special.

Dick finished wiping down the table and returned to his post behind the counter. He was fiddling with a pencil when the small bell on the door rang. Dick immediately stood up, his legs wobbling under the sudden weight, greeting the guests, “Welcome to-”

Tim and Jason walked up to the counter, Tim pulling out his wallet.

. . . . . . . . . .

Tim fiddled with his wallet, trying to find the ten-dollar bill he had stuck in there. Jason was whistling, a smug smile on his face. Jason had “forgotten” his wallet, so naturally, Tim was paying. Again. 

Tim had planned to stay away after learning Jason’s secret identity, but Jason had insisted he come over to hang out. One thing led to another, and now Tim feels safe calling Jason his friend. Jason stopped whistling and stared ahead, confused. Tim looked up, trying to find out what caught his friend’s attention. 

The employee, a young man, probably in his late twenties, 5’10”. He had broad shoulders, with blue eyes and messy black hair. He was relentlessly staring at the two. Eyes wide, jaw dropped. They awkwardly stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Jason broke the silence, “Are you going to take our order, or what?”

Seemingly snapped out of his trance, the barista quickly fiddled with the register, smiling and nodding his head. Tim felt like he recognized the man, but Jason interrupted his analysis, “I’ll have a black coffee.”

The employee gave a confused look before nodding and typing into the register. Tim took the chance to read his nametag “Dick”. He snorted but quickly covered it up. Dick looked confused for only a moment before giving a knowing look and letting out a small laugh too. Jason didn’t seem to enjoy being left out of the joke, looking quickly between the two, saying, “What?”

Tim ignored him and placed his order, “I’ll have a white hot chocolate-”

Jason interrupted, “What? A baby drink? Timmy, get a coffee or something with caffeine.”

“I’ve never had coffee.”

As Jason's face lit up, Tim heard the employee choke on something, “Well, I’m about to introduce you to the best. Drink. Ever.”

Tim and Jason sat down after paying for their drinks. The employee had led them to one of the booth seats, looking out the window. It was lucky for Tim, as he loved booth seats. Jason seemed to enjoy watching the cars go by. 

Tim tuned into the television, which was set to a random news channel. The lady on screen was trying to predict Batman’s secret identity. So far, she had guessed some guy named “Clark Kent”. Tim laughed a little under his breath. Knowing the bat’s secret identity was exciting. Jason seemed to tune into the news channel as well. He laughed harder than Tim did when the news reporter continued her Clark Kent theory. 

Maybe he was missing something. 

Before Tim could implore further, the employee returned with their drinks. He gave Jason a dark, black coffee and Tim a lighter one. The creamer was a misshapen heart, but he could see the attempt. Jason looked confused. “That’s not what I ordered him.”

The employee gave a small smile, “Trust me.”

Tim suspiciously looked down at his drink. The coffee was a pale brown, the kind of color a wooden school desk would be. The creamer was an off-white that resembled a cream color. Tim lifted the cup. It was warm in his hands. He slowly lifted the drink to his lips and took a sip.

The warm drink spilled out over his taste buds. At first, the coffee was bitter, but then the creamer made it sweeter. It was a perfect combination. A perfect ratio.

The flavor was immaculate. It’s the best thing Tim has ever had. 

“This… is amazing!” Tim smiled and took another sip.

Jason seemed to be taken aback at the sudden outburst, but smiled and laughed at Tim as he hungrily sipped his drink. Jason slowly sipped his own black coffee. 

After a few minutes, Jason put down his drink and gave Tim a serious look. Tim took a breath. “So, did you summon me here for another sleepover?”

“No, it’s very important.”

Tim put down his drink as well, his full attention on his friend. Jason’s hands were a bit shaky, his eyes darting around and looking anywhere but at Tim. He could have sworn Jason was sweating a bit. Jason believes he’s about to do something risky.

“What do you need me to do?”

Jason took a deep breath. “I need you to book me a flight to Ethiopia.”

Tim heard glass shatter. Both teenagers whipped around and spotted the employee quickly picking up the broken mug, glancing between the spill and his two customers. He was whispering something, almost cursing himself, before he darted into the back.

“Anyways… I need you to pretend to be an adult and get me a ticket. I can pay, I just need someone old enough to get me in.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “Jason, that’s insane! Why do you need to go to Ethiopia, of all places?”

“Bruce is going on a trip, and I really need to go. Alfred refused. Tim, you’re the only person in the world I can trust with this. Please.”

Tim bit his lip. Bruce was going on a “business trip” to Ethiopia. That’s definitely code for a Bat-related issue. Maybe Bruce couldn’t risk his cover being blown by taking Jason. What if Bruce didn’t want Jason to miss school? Perhaps this mission is really dangerous, and Jason’s life is in danger.

But… Jason is Flying Ace. He’s almost invincible. Tim’s never even seen him with a broken arm. Also, Tim would be helping him! It would be his dream come true. Helping his hero defeat crime. 

His heart ached. He made a selfish decision.

“You’re going to owe me for life!”

Jason’s face lit up as Tim slowly pulled out his laptop. 

One measly internet hack to pose as a stranger above 16 was an easy task for Tim. The most difficult part was hitting “purchase”.

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick tosses clothing into the suitcase. He saw red and blue shirts, but did not quite register what he was grabbing. His brain was a tornado of worries and fears. He closed his suitcase and pulled out his burner phone. He sent a simple message to his boss, “calling in sick for a week :(“.

Hands feeling numb, Dick returned to his suitcase to zip it shut. He probably forgot to pack socks, but he doesn’t have time to focus on his wardrobe.

It has been a couple weeks since Dick saw Tim and Jason at the coffee shop. At first, Dick was ecstatic to see Jason and Tim getting along. It was a rare sight, but they looked like two peas in a pod. 

Unfortunately, Jason mentioned that Ethiopia was coming up. Dick probably should have tried to talk him out of it, but he was a stranger, had already been called a creep by him, and Jason’s mind is one that is difficult to change. 

Instead, Dick just did some digging to find when “Bruce Wayne” was taking a business trip. He got into his tip jar, bought a ticket, and now he needed a taxi. 

Dick was going to save his brother.

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick laid in the snow, trying to protect his face from the constant onslaught of hail. He lay prone, making sure to keep a long distance from the two bats. Unfortunately, he did not have another suit, so he was in his dark, black Nightwing suit out in the fresh, white snow. (Usually, Dick would just track the two, but between the snow and foreign territory, his trackers were not working properly.)

Dick shivered as he brought binoculars to his eyes. Yes, his suit kept him warm, but it wasn’t exactly being maintained by Alfred. Through the binoculars, Dick watched as Jason snuck up behind Batman. 

They were on a rooftop in front of him, overlooking Ra’s Al Ghul’s trucks. Dick was not completely aware of the details of the mission, as he was in space during this time, but he knows the Joker is involved. According to the mission reports, Ra’s Al Ghul, at this moment in time, is smuggling uranium across the border. Any moment now, Batman is going to go after Ra’s, while Jason is going to go after Joker.

Batman began preparing to follow the trucks. He signaled Flying Ace to “stay”. Jason clearly was not fond of that plan, as they broke out into an argument.

Dick rubbed his eyelids in irritation. No matter the universe, those two just could not seem to agree on anything.

Eventually, Batman won the argument. With one last demand to stay, Batman took off on the Batcycle and headed to intercept the trucks.

There is Bruce’s parenting for you. He tells you to do something and expects you to listen.

To no one’s surprise, Jason took off as soon as Batman was out of sight. Dick sighed and hopped up from his spot in the snow. He B-lined it for a motorcycle that he was “borrowing”, hidden between two crates. I’ll give it back, just need it for tonight.

Dick revved the bike, because it sounded cool, and took off after Jason. Jason was on his own bike, designed after his costume. Dick had to admit, it looked cooler than the Robin bike. Unfortunately, the bike was much faster than Dick’s.

The trees whipped past as Dick pushed the bike as fast as it would go. He heard the wind in the leaves as he barely avoided the hanging branches. They were taking a detour road. It was not exactly well built, being made of dirt, and the road was rather bumpy. Jason’s bike was adjusting well, but it was a rough ride for Dick. He turned, avoiding potholes, and did his best to maintain a good distance so as not to be spotted.

Dick did his best to keep up, but eventually, Jason managed to outspeed him. Jason went from a boy on a motorcycle to a small speck in the distance. He remained a speck until there was nothing there. Dick came to a stop, a pit forming in his stomach. 

He felt his breath quicken in his panic. He was unable to sweat in the cold, but Dick felt his temperature rising. Dick looked around him, trying to spot the tire tracks that the snow had already managed to cover up. There was nothing but trees surrounding him.

Dick stood in the snow, surrounded by woods, trying to catch his breath. After standing alone in the snow for five minutes, Dick finally remembered the breathing techniques Bruce had taught him. Bruce used to be gentle. Before Jason’s death, Bruce was open and honest, sharing the fullest extent of his plans and always making sure everyone knew the utmost detail about a mission. Sure, he and Bruce were not on the best of terms at that time, but Bruce never hesitated to share an olive branch. To call for a moment of peace during the fights.

After Jason died, Bruce became closed off. Tim was the only one to mend their relationship (If you can call putting two people in a room and forcing them to bond mending). Jason’s death broke something in the family that was never quite fixed. Dick was going to stop it.

He managed to calm his mind and relax. He took inventory. Dick did not have any of his usual gear. Dick had left his wingdings at home (He didn’t want to lose them in the snow) and had brought two of his four smoke bombs. 

He had been saving his domino for an emergency.

This is that emergency.

Dick quickly switched on his domino. The domino mask picked apart the snow and revealed tire tracks. Dick couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he hopped back on his bike and took off. 

The domino continued to warn him, saying he only had a few minutes of battery left, but Dick persisted. He whipped by more trees as the forest thinned by the second. The tire tracks were becoming more and more clear the closer he had gotten to his location. 

According to his wrist watch, Dick had wasted seven minutes. He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

. . . . . . . . . .

Jason felt pain.

More than that, he felt guilty. He should have listened to Bruce. He should have stayed home, in the manor, safe, with Alfred. If he were home right now, Alfred would be making him a hot cocoa. He would be safe on the couch reading a book, doing homework, or probably playing video games with Tim. He should never have suckered Tim into buying him a ticket. God, he’s selfish. 

The concrete floor of the warehouse dug into his cheek and knees. The floor was imperfect, tiny pieces of rubble only rubbing into his wounds.

It’s all pain. Jason has been doing his own internal assessment of the damages, but he stopped counting a while ago. Broken ribs, fractured bones… broken jaw? All he knew was that Batman would be here soon. He had to be or…

The Joker laughed. Again.

Jason was getting a headache. The clown’s laugh echoed through his mind. It bounced off the chambers of his brain and controlled his every thought. How could he be laughing? There’s nothing funny. Is there?

The Joker towered over Jason. Jason suppressed a shudder as the clown prince dug his fingers into Jason’s scalp. He grabbed Jason's hair, lifting his head to meet the Joker’s gaze. The clown’s eyes were bulging. They were intense and almost… gleeful. Jason had trouble making out what the Joker was saying. His ears felt clogged, the Joker’s voice drowned out by the pounding in his head.

All Jason knew was that their faces were entirely too close. Jason swished his tongue in his mouth, gathering all the blood he could find, and spat it on the Joker’s face. The red blood stood out in contrast to the Joker’s pale, white skin. 

Jason watched in horror as Joker’s gleeful expression turned sour, the corners of his mouth slowly dropping into a scowl, “Think you’re funny, huh?”

Like a piece of trash, the Joker unkindly dropped Jason’s head back onto the cement floor of the warehouse with a thud. He kept an even pace back to the other side of the room. 

Jason heard a scrape. 

The Joker slowly made his way back to his victim, that damn crowbar in his hand again. Jason couldn’t suppress the shudder this time as the crowbar scraped the floor, the Joker making his advance known. 

Jason was counting down his impending doom as the Joker closed the distance, counting each and every step. The Joker’s boots clacked throughout the warehouse. Jason turned over, his gaze now settling on the ceiling.

He wanted to see the stars one last time. More than that, Jason was waiting for Batman to crash through the covered skylight and rain hell down on the clown. Jason waited as the clacking grew louder,

Batman wasn’t coming.

Jason let out a sigh of defeat. The Joker began another laughing fit. Jason cringed as his laugh rang out throughout the small space. He studied the rafters, trying to give himself a distraction from the pain. The laugh. The abandonment.

A shadow. Jason saw a shadow move. 

Rescue had come. “Bat…” Jason tried to get the words out, but blood filled his mouth. He turned over once more to vomit it out. The laughing stopped. 

“A cry for help, perhaps?” The Joker laughed, giddily searching the high beams for a particular bat-shaped vigilante. Jason began trying to inch his way to the back of the warehouse, desperately trying to put distance between himself and the angel of death. 

Joker noticed his movements and began to advance once more. Before he could take another step, a projectile landed between the two of them and began hissing smoke. Joker let out another round of hysterical laughter as smoke filled the warehouse.

Batman dropped from the rafters.

Jason strained his eyes against the smoke, trying to witness the battle taking place. Through the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears, Jason could make out the sounds of bones breaking and skin-on-skin contact. Someone was getting bashed. Jason would bet his allowance that it wasn’t Batman.

Jason attempted to heft himself up, as he did not want to look weak in front of Batman, only to freeze when it wasn’t Batman who emerged from the smoke.

A man, shorter than Batman but much taller than himself, walked out of the smoke, dragging the Joker behind him. The man wore curly, dark hair and had broad shoulders with less muscular legs. Almost an acrobat’s build.

The stranger paid Jason a glance before taking Joker to one of the warehouse’s pillars and handcuffing him. The man had barely a scratch on him, while the Joker looked worse than Jason felt. His savior then sprinted across the room and began defusing the bomb. There was a bomb?

Jason sent a mean look the Joker’s way, not that he was conscious to see it. Jason doubted he would be conscious anytime soon. While the man fiddled with the bomb, Jason tried once more to heave himself into an upright position. He put his hands underneath him and yelped in pain. 

The stranger paused his fiddling for a moment to look back at Jason before continuing his work. Jason got with the program and lay back down, unmoving.

A few moments later, Jason heard a click. The bomb must be defused. He heard footsteps approach him before the stranger loomed over him. His expression was unreadable, but Jason recognized the look. He was analyzing.

Jason put a defiant expression on his face, which seemed to only amuse the stranger. He offered Jason a tight smile before he reached for something in his belt. Jason took the opportunity to get a good look at the man’s chest.

There was a bright blue emblem. Almost bird-like. The style of his suit and the tech of his wrist reminded him of his bat-tech.

The stranger was mumbling something, at a speed that Jason’s fogged brain couldn’t keep up with. Jason felt cloth being applied to a particularly nasty wound on his leg. It was painful, but the first gentle touch Jason felt in days.

“Who… are?”

The stranger stopped and took a moment to consider answering Jason’s question. Before he could, the sound of a motorcycle approaching erupted throughout the warehouse. The stranger froze for only a moment before dropping their supplies and fleeing. Jason only caught a single flip before they were gone.

Batman kicked down the door of the warehouse, “Jason!”

Bruce threw down his cowl and was at Jason’s side in only a moment. He took off his glove and put a bare hand to Jason’s face. Jason cried for the first time that night, all his thoughts stopped, and the masked vigilante was forgotten.

All that mattered was his dad. He was here now, and he would save him.

. . . . . . . . . .

Tim rose from where he was upside-down on his bed. His pinboard still only had two blurry images of the new mysterious vigilante. Turns out looking at the board upside-down did not help. Tim left his room out of frustration. This vigilante had been in town for almost three months, and Tim still had nothing on him.

He was even more slippery than the bat himself. Tim began to heat a popcorn packet in the microwave. If anything, maybe some brain food will help. The sounds of kernels popping filled the room as Tim sulked in thought. 

He thought about school, the mysterious vigilante, his parents, and Batman… His thoughts eventually wandered to Jason.

Tim would bet a few bucks that Jason’s wrapped up his mission and is coming home victorious.

Chapter Text

Words 3112

One year.

It’s been a full year.

Nightwing slams his escrima sticks into the crook’s torso. Sure, hitting their knees or elbows would disarm them faster, but Nightwing’s in a bad mood tonight. He ducks a punch and spins around to land a kick right into the crook’s chest. The slightly smaller man immediately falls to the ground, gasping for air. 

Nightwing fiercely turns around, looking for his next victim, but every other bad guy behind the bar has been taken down. Nightwing let out a frustrated burst of air before striding over to the van. He opened the back to reveal a couple of crates full of cash. These guys had been going to every convenience store and bar in Gotham and robbing the registers. Dick had to admit, it was harder to catch them than he expected. 

He quickly powered on his wristwatch and sent the police an anonymous tip.

Ever since Bruce’s little trip to Ethiopia, crime has spiked. Batman had barely been spotted in the seven months following Jason’s torture. Nightwing had to assume he was spending that time by Jason’s side, making sure he heals properly. Dick wanted nothing more than for Bruce to stay by Jason’s side, but it would also be nice if he made a few more appearances as Batman. 

Dick’s been stuck in this cursed universe for a year, with no sign of rescue. He has no evidence that Cassandra or Damian even exist, his brother was hospitalized for six months, and Tim has been harder and harder to find on the rooftops. Way to go, hero.

Nightwing did a smooth flip onto a ladder and climbed the rungs up to the fire escape. It was old and rusted, but it managed to hold his weight just fine. Instead of using the stairs, Nightwing favored climbing up the side of the fire escape, if not to just expel some extra energy. Another smooth flip at the top of the stairs found him on a roof.

He turned around and took in the cityscape before him. The surrounding buildings were taller, meaning he couldn’t see far, but Nightwing caught a glimpse of the Gotham skyline. The moon was perfectly framed by two skyscrapers on either side.

The moon was full.

Dick felt the adrenaline leave his body as he settled on the lip of the roof. He sat down, one leg hanging off the side, while he wrapped his arms around his other leg, making it easier for his chin to rest on his knee. The wind whistled through his hair as he closed his eyes and drank in the cool night air. It tasted like smog.

Nightwing laughed to himself. Good ol’ Gotham. 

His eyes slowly parted as he took the moon in once more. The moon was the same shape it was when Dick took Damian on his first patrol. Damian had been antsy. He was practically buzzing with energy, but reigning it in to try and please Dick. Batman, Dick at the time, had only found it amusing. His goal for that patrol had been to loosen Damian’s nerves. 

After a lot of rooftop tag (disguised as training), the two had settled on a roof, peeking up at the sky. The moon had been full then, too.

Nightwing smiled fondly at the memory. His smile dropped as he was reminded of this morning’s research. Dick had spent all morning researching and trying to find even a speckle of dust that proved Damian's existence but there was none. 

Dick wanted nothing more than to blow open the gates of Nanda Parbat, scoop up Damian, and drop him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The issue was that he was only one man, Damian had no idea who he was, and Dick wasn’t even sure Damian exists in this timeline. Dick doubted his existence affected Talia’s attraction to Bruce, but he just couldn’t be sure. He could infiltrate an elite ninja cult’s headquarters and die, all for nothing.

Dick leaned back until his shoulders hit the cement roof of the building. He let his other leg drop and hang off the roof as well. Among other things, Dick also couldn’t find anything on Cass. That was to be expected, though. If Cass didn’t want to be found, not even Bruce could find her. 

Dick sighed.

Hopefully, he could find some more bad guys to beat up. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Tim stood outside the manor’s double doors. He shifted on his feet as he tried in vain to summon the courage and knock. Jason had been absent from school since he returned from Bruce’s business trip. 

Tim needed to make sure Jason was alright. Especially since he’s the reason Jason was there in the first place. Tim had a bad feeling when he had purchased the ticket, but he had thrown the bad vibes away in ignorance. It’s a child’s mentality to believe someone couldn’t get hurt. Especially someone who is only two years older.

Tim ignored the small voice in his head telling him he was just a child.

Before Tim could decide to leave, Alfred answered the door, “Anything I can do to assist you, Master Timothy?”

Tim, shell-shocked for one reason or another, took too long to respond. Alfred simply opened the door and gestured for Tim to join him. 

Tim was not sure whether the butler knew of Bruce’s night job, but Alfred seemed to know the second Tim dropped even the smallest crumb on the floor, so he could know the whole Justice League’s identity for all Tim knew.

Alfred led Tim into the dining room and pulled out a chair for him before disappearing into the kitchen. Tim sat in the cold, desolate room by himself for several minutes. Eventually, Alfred returned with two cups of tea. He gently set them both down on the table. One for Tim, one for himself. 

Alfred sat down himself, looking expectedly at Tim. When Tim did not show any signs of speaking, Alfred decided to initiate the conversation himself: “I assume you are here to check in on Master Jason.”

Tim went from staring at the table to staring at the floor. A small voice in his head reminded him it was rude to ignore someone, so Tim raised his head and gave the butler a slight nod. 

Alfred gave a slight smile with a knowing look. He took a sip of his tea before continuing, “I am sure Master Jason would be delighted to see you. I assure you he has not stayed in the manor by choice,” Alfred chuckled, as if he were reminiscing on a memory.

Tim wouldn’t be surprised if Jason had attempted escape several times. He could be stubborn like that. That was not what Tim was worried about, though. “How can you be so sure he wants to see me?”

Alfred paused. His gaze locked with Tim’s as he studied the boy. Tim felt a smidge uncomfortable. Alfred was clearly trying to decipher what had happened. “Why do you say that?”

Tim did not want to seem rude and ignore the butler again, but he also did not want to admit that he had illegally purchased a ticket for Jason to Ethiopia, as that would probably get him in trouble. What resulted was useless sputtering and incoherent mumbling that made the butler chuckle.

Alfred quirked an eyebrow, “Do not worry, Master Tim. As the kids say, Snitches get stitches.”

Tim couldn’t help a small smile that crept onto his face. Alfred basically just said he would not tell Bruce. Tim doubted that Alfred could punish or ground Jason. The worst punishment the butler could give him was chores. Not to mention, Tim didn’t really have any other way out of this. 

Tim hesitated, “I was the one who bought Jason the ticket to Ethiopia."

Alfred stilled once again. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I am sorry he asked that of you. I can assure you, his condition is not of your doing.”

It was Tim’s turn to be shocked. He quickly looked back up at the butler, making eye contact for the first time in five minutes, “His condition?”

Alfred held Tim’s gaze before lifting himself out of the dining room chair. “Perhaps it is time he greeted you.”

Alfred gently gestured towards the stairs. Tim slowly stood up from his chair and followed the butler up the steps. 

The hallways felt empty. Almost dead. None of Jason’s belongings were in the hallway like the last time Tim was here. Jason’s skateboard wasn’t on the floor, no hoodies were hanging off chairs, and there weren’t even any skid marks in the wood floors from when they ran around the manor. Like Tim said, it felt dead.

Alfred stopped in front of Jason’s door. From beneath the door, Tim couldn't see a light. “Is he sleeping?”

Alfred shook his head gently, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Alfred left the hallway, opting to go back downstairs. Tim stared at the door.

If Jason really was awake, why was his light off? Better yet, why didn’t Jason greet Tim when he first arrived? Maybe Jason was mad at him. After all, Tim did send him to Ethiopia with a halfhearted argument. God, it barely took any convincing for Tim to just book the flight. No. Jason didn’t hate him. Then why did Jason not open the door when he and Alfred spoke in the hallway? There’s no way he didn’t hear them, right?

Tim raised his fist to knock, but slowly pulled it away. Tim liked to think of Jason as his best friend, but what if Jason doesn’t feel the same? What if Tim was only his third friend?

Tim turned around, facing the opposing wall, letting out a harsh sigh.

Jason’s door swung open. 

Tim stiffened, slowly turning his head to take in Jason’s flustered form in the doorway. 

Jason was breathing harshly, as if each breath was a struggle. He had an arm slung into a cast and several scratches on his face. His hair was a bit matte, but overall, Jason looked like… Jason.

Tim quickly turned his whole body towards Jason (his mom said it was rude to turn your back on people), “I’m sorry!”

Jason’s loud breaths finally receded. “For what?”

Jason’s expression boasted confusion. His eyebrows notched, and his eyes picked apart Tim’s frame. Jason always squinted when he analyzed something.

Tim looked Jason dead in the eye, “For buying you that ticket. I should have said no, but I was selfish-”

Tim cut himself off as he caught the vexed expression Jason threw at him. Jason’s eyes widened, contrary to the squinted state they found themselves in before, and his mouth was gaping. Tim did not know what had upset his friend so much. Perhaps his apology was too scant.

Jason’s whole face compressed into anger, “Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong! If anything, I should apologize.”

“What? You’re the one with a broken arm.”

“I manipulated you into going behind Bruce’s back. Not to mention it’s my fault I got this broken arm in the first place. If I had only listened…” Jason’s features turned melancholy. His gaze dropped down to his feet.

Tim could hardly analyze his friend’s behavior as he was lost in his own thoughts. Jason didn’t blame him? And what did Jason mean by not listening? Perhaps he didn’t listen to Batman?

The two boys sat in silence. Tim raised his head to say something, another apology on the tip of his tongue, before Jason threw himself at Tim for a hug. Tim quickly returned it, wrapping his arms around the larger boy, and they squeezed each other for an entire minute.

Tim eventually broke the comfortable silence: “Did you almost die?”

Jason gently pulled himself out of the hug, planting his hands on Tim’s shoulders. Jason looked his friend in the eyes, “No. It takes more than a the-, uh, a bad motor accident to take me down.”

Tim couldn’t stop the smile that took over his lips as he gave Jason one last squeeze before pulling away, “There’s another reason I came.”

Jason’s face morphed from a pleasant smile into confusion, but more so curiosity as Tim led him downstairs. Jason’s face dropped into a unique form of horror as Tim provided all the homework assignments Jason had missed, the stack of papers challenging the stack on Bruce’s desk.

. . . . . . . . .

Nightwing leapt from the lip of the building’s roof and slid onto the fire escape hugging the side of the building. It was not the most gracious landing, but he was now comfortably lying on the rusted steps, so who cares if his back is sore tomorrow?

He took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles, drinking in the night air and visualizing himself running back to the safe house. He could probably count the running as his cooldown and just collapse onto the couch tonight. He had been pushing it lately, and his body was screaming at him.

Batman was still hardly anywhere to be found, but Dick knew it was a matter of time before he returned to the field. He just had to hold out a little longer. The night had been quieter than usual, which he was taking full advantage of. 

Hence, the napping on a fire escape.

But crime never sleeps, so Dick opened his eyes and propped himself up into a sitting position. He could take another moment to relax, but he should head back to his apartment soon, the sun is almost up and he has the day shift today at the coffee shop.

As Nightwing was surveying his route (stalling before he actually had to get up), he spotted a flash of purple on a roof not too far away. He looked closer and saw a person… dancing? He wasn’t sure what they were doing, but the person was making quick motions and spinning. 

Nightwing brought his hand to his goggles out of habit to zoom in, only to forget he used the last of the battery. Sighing, Nightwing finally hopped off the fire escape for a closer look. 

After hopping a few rooftops, Nightwing got close enough to identify the woman in purple. It was Stephanie. Unfortunately, she was not dancing. If he had to guess, she was… practicing? Fighting? Who knows. The point is, this is the perfect opportunity to check in on her. 

Sneaking underneath the roof’s lip, Nightwing got behind Stephanie and decided to go for a traditional hello, “What’s up?”

He had unfortunately forgotten that Stephanie is no longer a seasoned vigilante who pays attention to her surroundings.

She immediately yelped and sucker punched him in the gut. Nightwing immediately hit the deck, clutching his stomach and groaning. She may be untrained, but Stephanie was always unnaturally strong.

“Ah! Oops, sorry!” Stephanie put her hands up in a placating gesture, “Wait, why am I apologizing? What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

Nightwing rolled onto his haunches, sitting in a crouch, still rubbing his stomach where Stephanie had punched him, “Sorry, I thought you knew I was there.”

Dick stood up straight, popping his back and reaching out his hand, “Hi, I see you’re a new vigilante in town?”

Stephanie looked hesitant, but eventually shook his hand, “Yes. My name’s Spoiler.”

“Spoiler, huh? That’s odd.”

“It’s because I’m about to spoil all the bad guys’ plans!”

Stephanie then squared up and punched the air, driving home her point. Dick couldn’t help but chuckle, “That’s pretty creative.”

Though her mask covered her face, Dick could almost see the way her face lit up under a random stranger’s praise. She did a mock flex, grinning at Nightwing. Her homemade costume was very unsafe. It had very little protection, but Nightwing could see it was very Batman inspired. Her cape flapped in the wind, almost larger than herself. 

“Why purple?”

Stephanie brought down her arms, now crossing them across her chest, “It’s my favorite color. And you?”

She guestured to the bright blue bird across his chest. He laughed, “Guilty. Are you out here by yourself?”

“More or less.”

“That can be dangerous.”

Stephanie turned away, looking out across the city, “People are out there by themselves everyday, without any support. I guess I want to be their support.”

Nightwing’s smile grew. Stephanie always had a good heart, much bigger than her own. It’s what made Bruce choose her as a Robin, what made Barbara choose her to become the next batgirl, and what made Cass so fond of her. Nightwing couldn’t imagine Stephanie getting hurt.

He leaned against the brick chimney behind him, crossing his arms and looking out into the city with her. After several beats of silence, he spoke with a more serious tone, “Yes, they are. But you don’t have to be. Someone once told me it was important to have a safety net. Something- or- someone to catch you when you fall. This is a very dangerous business. Having allies is important.”

Stephanie turned to listen. She took a few beats to soak in his words, juggling them in her mind, and came up with her answer, “And where do you suppose we find these safety nets?”

Cuckling at the “we” part he smiled, “Well, Batman, Ace, and Batgirl are all in a cliche. Something like that, I guess.”

“So…” Stephanie took a step closer, a mischievous glint in her body language, “Kind of like a teamup?”

“Exactly.”

“So like you and me?”

Nightwing’s eyes slightly widened. He was trying to push her towards the bats, not him. He bit his lip and looked at his feet, trying to find a way to rework the conversation back to Batman. When Dick looked back up, Stephanie was slowly deflating the longer he took to answer. He felt his heart break a little bit.

I can work with this.

“Yes. You and me. We can look out for each other.”

“We’ll be the Rooftop Buddies!”

Laughing, Nightwing reached into his belt and pulled out a small device, handing it to Stephanie. She held it up in the moonlight, “What’s this?”

“A communicator. Turn it on if you are ever in an emergency. If you don’t know whether or not it’s an emergency, use it anyway.”

She turned it over in her hand, “How will you contact me?”

“It’s not my only one.” Nightwing held up an identical device.

“Cool.” She breathes, looking at the device once more. “What’s your name again?”

“Nightwing.” Deciding that was his time to part, Nightwing gave Spoiler a mock salute, hopping off the roof and ziplining away.

Chapter Text

Words 2298

Dick typed in the code to lock the coffee shop. He was given the night shift again, but he never complains. If anything, it allows him to sleep better after patrol. After the lock mechanism chimed, he turned and began walking back to the safehouse he calls home. 

He reached into his pocket and lifted his communicator to his ear. Unlike his wristwatch, he never quite got his communicator to lock onto Batman's system, so he instead linked it to the police radios. The police chatter was the usual, talking about muggings and Batman sightings. 

He was about a block away from the safehouse when he picked up a robbery in all of the chatter. Apparently, there was a group of gangsters robbing a jewelry store only a block away. Thinking over Batman’s patrol routes, Bruce won’t be anywhere near the area. 

Sounds like the perfect crime for Nightwing to handle.

. . . . . . . . . . 

Nightwing landed on a skinny cell tower overlooking the jewelry store. The tower cried out and swayed under his weight, making him grab onto it tightly until the tower eventually stopped swaying. I think I’m the weight limit for this thing .

Pushing aside the fear of falling and landing like a pancake, Nightwing surveyed the scene in front of him. The jewelry store was rather peaceful, aside from the blaring alarm and broken glass. There were also civilians walking up and down the street, paying no mind to the robbery. Typical Gothamites.

The culprits in question chose that moment to emerge from the broken glass, bag of jewelry in hand. They sprinted up the street, probably to go fetch their ride. Nightwing readied himself to leap down from the unstable cell tower when the thugs ran into one of the pedestrians. The pedestrian in question, a girl in a black hoodie with a baseball cap, immediately grabbed his arm and yanked him over her body, slamming him on the floor.

Nightwing and the other robbers stopped in their tracks. No one moved a muscle, except for the thug writhing on the ground in pain. As the civilian moved to attack the rest of the robbers, Nightwing jumped down from the cell tower and into an alley to observe.

He recognized those moves…

During the fight, the girl’s black hood fell, revealing her short, crow black hair. She kicked one man’s shin and spun to punch another guy in the face. Her fighting style was graceful and fluid, but carried power and restraint.

Cassandra Cain. 

Before Nightwing could think to intervene, all of the robbers were unconscious on the floor. Cassandra took a quick glance around before sprinting away. Nightwing ran to chase her, but paused for a moment and looked back at the unconscious robbers.

Grumbling, he quickly tied them to the nearest lamp post, but not before his communicator buzzed. Turning on his comm, Nightwing wasn’t surprised when Spoiler’s voice reached his ears, “Hey, Wing! Can I call you wing? Anyways! I heard about a jewelry store robbery. Want to check it out?”

Nightwing smiled, “Thanks, Spoiler, but I’m already here, wrapping everything up. If you’re looking to keep busy, I heard about a few muggings happening in Newtown, you can check it out.”

Spoiler, annoyed, groaned, “You always do the fun stuff without me!”

“Get through one mission without something blowing up and I’ll do the fun stuff with you.”

Turning off his comm, Nightwing sent an anonymous tip to the police and returned to his pursuit. He was behind on Cassandra’s trail, but managed to catch up rather easily. She had stopped running after a couple of blocks and was now heading towards the Upper East Side, vaguely where Batman was patrolling. 

Perfect.

If Dick could herd Cassandra towards Batman, he was convinced Bruce would take her back to the manor.

Nightwing sprinted along the rooftops, always keeping one eye on Cassandra. After a couple of blocks, Cass stepped into a deep alley. Nightwing stopped at the alley’s entrance, looking around for something he could use. He spotted a car parked in the opposite alley, conveniently facing the one Cassandra had stepped into. 

Nightwing grabbed onto a drainage pipe and slid down the pole, Fireman style, until he reached the ground. He then slid across the sidewalk to the car and easily lockpicked the driver's door. He reached near the steering wheel and turned on the car’s headlights, which immediately illuminated the alley. Cassandra let out a surprised yelp, quickly turning around to shield her eyes from the onslaught of sudden light. 

Nightwing positioned himself in front of the car’s headlights and put his hands behind his head, causing his shadow to grow devil-like horns. He usually used this method on criminals, using his fingers to look like Batman, but Cassandra fearing Batman, was the last thing he wanted right now. 

When Cass pulled her hands from her eyes, she saw a shadow taking the shape of a man with devil horns on the alley wall. She startled herself and jumped onto a garbage bin, climbing onto a fire escape to run away on the rooftops. 

Satisfied, Nightwing turned off the car’s headlights, locked the doors, and began the chase. All he had to do was herd her towards the Dark Knight.

. . . . . . . . . . 

Batman landed on the roof with a grunt. It had been incredibly difficult to keep Flying Ace off patrol today. Bruce knew this would be the week Jason won. Though he would never admit it, patrolling without Ace left a hole in his heart. He couldn’t wait for Jason to return to the field. 

Looking down at his wristwatch, Batman noticed an anonymous tip left for the police outside a jewelry store. Probably Barbara .

He switched his communication line to talk to Batgirl, “Batgirl. I saw you stopped the jewelry store robbery. Well done.”

There was a short hum on the other line, “Actually, that wasn’t me. I thought it was you.”

Batman grunted. Flying Ace hasn’t been in the field for months. If Batgirl didn’t call in the tip, who did? Batman turned to face the direction of the jewelry store. Batman needed to find out who called in the tip. After all, who’s to say whether they’re friend or foe?

Pulling out his grapple, he lined up the shot before the subtle sound of racing feet on gravel reached his ears. He quickly turned to his left to see a young girl sprinting at him, a larger shadow following her. 

“Stop!”

The girl immediately followed the command. She stopped in her tracks and fell on her rear from the sudden change in her inertia. The shadow, however, only turned around to flee. Batman quickly fiddled with the symbol on his chest, trying to turn on his spotlight. The symbol glowed, illuminating the entire roof, but the mysterious figure flipped out of view before the light could reveal them. 

Giving a frustrated grunt, Batman turned off the floodlight and shifted his attention to the girl sitting in front of him. Towering over her, the girl shrank in on herself, as if trying to hide from him. Batman immediately crouched down, trying to appear smaller, “Hello. Are you alright?”

The girl slowly pulled her arms from her face, turning to look Batman in the eye. After a moment of silence, she nodded. The girl was in a dark hoodie, sporting a baseball cap under the hood. She had asian features, with dark hair and darker eyes. She looked scared, but her eyes held a feeling of defiance in them. “What is your name?”

The girl opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked confused. After a moment of silence, she very slowly shook her head.

Batman hummed, “Alright. Come with me, you must be hungry.”

He held out his hand gently, a soft smile on his features. The girl seemed hesitant, but gently took his hand. He lifted her back to her feet before gesturing for her to follow. She hesitated, but nodded firmly and walked behind him the whole way to the Batmobile.

Bruce adored her already.

. . . . . . . . . . 

Dick slammed his hands on the table. Another dead end.

It’s been a week since Cassandra made contact with Bruce. Since then, Dick had been putting all his energy into finding evidence of Damian’s existence. 

So far, he’s found nothing.

Dick has skipped patrol, one shift at work, and has been ignoring Stephanie’s check-ins in an effort to find even a speck of dust proving that Damian existed in this universe. He wanted to save him. He had to get him away from Ra’s and Talia. 

He sighed, settling back in the kitchen chair. If Dick was being completely honest, he was fairly convinced Damian existed. For the last two years, the league had been completely inactive in Gotham, clearly trying to avoid Bruce. 

Dick was only one man. Otherwise, he would have already taken down the whole league to save Damian. He just had to convince Batman… what? That he apparently had a son with his enemy?

It’s not like Dick could get a DNA sample. Nothing short of Talia telling Bruce about his kid would convince The Batman.

Hm.

Dick turned to his wristwatch in wonder. He quickly snatched it and dialed Talia’s number. It was a shot in the dark, but it might just work…

After a few rings, Talia’s voice cut through, “Who is this?”

Not even a second in, and she was already suspicious. He would be suspicious, too, but it’s still annoying. Dick settled his mind and put on his best Batman impression, which was pretty spot on. He did spend a year impersonating the man, after all, “It’s me.”

“Bruce,” she breathed, “What do you want?”

“I want to talk about the kid.”

Dick could hear Talia breathing on the other end. By some miracle, it appears he fooled her. Dick turned on the recording software in the wristwatch, a red light blinking in the corner of the screen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Talia. Tell me if he’s,” Dick took a breath, “Just tell me if he’s mine.”

A few beats of silence passed before Talia spoke again, “Yes. He is your son. His name is Damian and he is almost ten. But he is my son, Bruce. I raised him.”

“How.”

“A tube,” she gasped, “I aged him to eight years old two years ago.”

Was she… crying? Unbelievable, “I see.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but father-”

Dick quickly hung up before he got caught in another spiral. With shaking hands, he pressed stop on the recording and gently placed the wristwatch on the table. He stared at the watch until it turned off from inactivity, his reflection staring back at him on the black screen. Sighing, Dick held his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

A seed of guilt resided in his stomach. That was not a conversation he had a right to have or even hear. Especially not while impersonating Bruce.

“It will be worth it.” He whispered into the quiet space, trying to reassure himself.

. . . . . . . . . . 

Bruce chuckled as Jason tried and failed to show Cass how to play Mario Kart. Whenever she got confused, Jason just said the same thing, but slower. Bruce did not think it was helping. Tim was there, too. He was huddled up in the corner on his laptop, shaking his head at Jason’s antics. Tim was part of the household at this point.

Bruce sighed contentedly, settled in the corner of the living room in his favorite chair, and opened the newspaper in front of him. The manor was getting quite crowded. Alfred actually had his hands full for the first time in years. Bruce couldn’t be happier. Cassandra blended into the family incredibly well. The only grievance is her lack of language skills. Cassandra couldn’t read or write. Up until the other day, he and Alfred were convinced she was mute.

Barbara has been working with her on reading and writing, while Bruce lets her hang out with the boys and enjoy some of the other luxuries of life.

Just as Bruce made it to the comics section of the newspaper, his phone buzzed. Bruce gently set down the paper in his lap and pulled out his phone. A message from Barbara, “We need to talk.”

Confused, Bruce excused himself from the living room and closed the large double doors in his study. He immediately called Barbara, hardly waiting for her to pick up, “What’s the emergency?”

“Relax, there’s no emergency. Just sensitive information I received.”

“Received?”

“I got an anonymous email containing a voice message. I thought you should hear it yourself.”

Before Bruce could answer any question, his phone vibrated, having received said email from Barbara. He temporarily hung on to her to open the email. The sender was indeed anonymous. Cautiously, Bruce hit play. He gaped in shock when Talia’s voice breached his ears, thick with emotion, “Yes. He is your son. His name is Damian and he is almost ten. But he is my son, Bruce. I raised him,” a cut, “A tube. I aged him to eight years old two years ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but father-”. The recording was cut off.

Talia’s voice was thick, emotional, and raw. She seemed on the verge of tears and was talking about a child. It was only at the end of the message that Bruce realized what child she was talking about. 

Bruce froze. He dropped his phone, which shattered on the floor. He hardly noticed when Alfred walked into the study to check on him. Alfred tapped on his shoulder, and Bruce was ripped from his trance. “Master Bruce, what happened?”

“I have a son.”

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“I have a son.” Bruce repeated, quieter, and to himself. As if he did not believe the words falling from his lips. The thought was absurd. Not to mention it was Talia, who he hasn’t heard from in almost five years.

“You mean other than the two boys in your living room?”

Bruce turned to face Alfred, his eyes full of grief, love, but mostly confusion. Alfred’s slight grin dropped as his eyes widened the slightest bit, an overreaction coming from Alfred.

“Oh.” Alfred brought his hands to his side and stepped towards Bruce, cupping his cheek. 

Bruce sighed, his shoulders dropping. He gently moved Alfred’s hand away as his gaze traveled down to his feet. He has a son. A biological son. He did not know the boy’s age, but Bruce wracked his brain for a slip up. A moment in time when the boy may have been conceived. Moments behind the curtain swept his brain as he remembered a joyful year of his life, one of the few bright spots in his time before Jason. 

No, Talia said that the child was force grown in a tube. That means Talia must have gotten ahold of Bruce’s DNA at one point. 

“I made a mistake, Alfred.”

Alfred hummed dismissively as he stepped away, giving Bruce space, “I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s Talia’s son. Barbara just sent me an anonymous email she received with a voicemail attached." Bruce waved his phone to emphasize and turned around to set the phone down on his desk. The click of the phone hitting the table echoed throughout the silent office space. 

“How do we know this voicemail was not fabricated?”

“We don’t. Which is why I have homework to do.”

“Master Bruce, you promised to take the day off-”

Bruce turned to face Alfred, unmoving.

“I apologize, Master Bruce. Clearly, this is urgent. I shall prepare the children's dinner.” Alfred stood with a tall posture, hands behind his back, before he turned and exited the study with haste.

Bruce’s whispered “Thank you, Alfred” went unheard. He turned back to the phone on the table.

Picking up the phone, Bruce redialed Barbara’s number. The second the ringing cut out, Bruce spoke, “Were you able to trace the email?”

“No. Whoever sent it is good. Didn’t leave a hint. I have no way to authenticate it. It’s probably fake, Bruce. A sick joke.” Barbara scoffed, disgusted by the notion.

“Doesn’t matter. If there is a kid, mine or not, in the League of Assassins, we have to help him. That’s no life to live.”

Barbara paused a moment, “It won’t be easy, how would we even-”

“I’ll come up with a plan, just wait for my call.”

“Alright. Take care of yourself.”

The other line went dead. Bruce was left by himself in the silent, empty study. He took a few deep breaths before he turned to enter the cave. Time to do what he did best.

Plan.

. . . . . . . . .

Nightwing leaned on the chimney, overlooking the city from the building’s roof. The brick of the chimney dug into his shoulder blades, but he found an unfamiliar comfort in the night. It was a strange, tranquil peace. 

Dick had hacked into Batman’s comm line earlier that night and listened in on a conversation with Barbara. The Batfamily was planning on departing tomorrow night. Since it was such short notice, Nighting knew that his only chance was to stowaway. 

So here he stood, leaning on a chimney on the roof of his apartment. He had packed all the essentials this morning. Wingdings, grenades, and even smoke pellets. Stealth was going to be very important, so he was sporting a black jacket today. He also packed more layers to go underneath the jacket, including some sweat pants for his legs. He would need the warmth the extra clothes would provide. 

The sound of footsteps finally pulled him out of his thoughts as Spoiler arrived. Stephanie had landed behind him, clearly trying to sneak up on the distracted vigilante. It was a game they played, a game Nightwing always won, to practice her stealth abilities. She had come a long way, but Dick has been in the game for almost 20 years now. 

Nightwing stood still, letting Spoiler approach slowly until she was in arm’s reach. Before she could shout “Boo!” Nightwing turned around, “Nice night for some star gazing, yeah?”

Spoiler jumped, but quickly settled down and straightened, “You could say that. Did you know I was here the whole time?”

“Yup.” Nightwing wore a smug smile.

Spoiler’s shoulders dropped slightly. She raised her hand up to her forehead, dramatically whining, “You never let me win!”

Nightwing gave a small belly laugh, but quickly settled his expression, Stephanie frowned, straightening and allowing Nightwing to speak. 

“I’m going out of town. I need you to look after Gotham while I’m gone. I think the bat will also be out.”

Stephanie pulled a small smile, “What? Not going to invite me?”

Nightwing looked away, not replying.

Spoiler scoffed, “Yeah well, I guess that’s always the answer these days.”

“Spoiler-”

“No! Why don’t you ever invite me anymore? You were my best friend for like a week and then wanted nothing to do with me. What’s up, N?”

Dick sighed. He couldn’t exactly lie, he has been distancing himself. Dick’s been trying to push Stephanie towards Batman, but she has been sticking to his side like a lost puppy. Seems like she’s starting to take it personally.

Silence drifted between the two of them. Spoiler crossed her arms, waiting for Nightwing to say something.

Nightwing started, then stopped. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye, “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve been distant. I didn't mean for you to take it personally, it’s just- you need more friends than just me. Batman-”

“For the love of- N, I want to be your friend. Not Batman’s.”

Spoiler stood strong, unmoving. Nightwing said nothing. Sighing, Spoiler fired her grapple, “Have fun on your trip.”

She grappled into the night, eventually leaving Nightwing’s line of sight. Dick deflated a bit. Way to go, hero.

. . . . . . . . . .

Bruce, Alfred, and Barbara all stared at the blueprints laid in front of them. The palace was large, but Bruce had a solid idea of how to infiltrate. The blueprints had a helpful diagram of the outside walls, but the inside of the building was blank. Barbara had spent hours trying to hack it, but not even Batman could find a reliable blueprint for the inside of Ra’s Al Ghul’s palace. 

“We will begin here, at the east entrance,” Bruce pointed to the blueprint for visual aid, “Only one guard is posted here in the evenings. From there, we will have to navigate blindly. We will rely on stealth. Barbara, you will put the cameras onto a feedback loop while I take care of the guards. Alfred will remain on comms in case of an emergency. We get in, find the kid, and get out.”

Barbara hummed, “This plan is risky. We don’t have nearly enough information.”

“Agreed.”

“So why do we need to leave now?”

“Talia has to know that we are coming. We need to move before the League of Assassins disappears again.”

Alfred gave a disapproving hum, before leaving to prepare dinner. Bruce and Barbara continued to talk, going over scenarios and different risks they may have to take. Just as they were going over broken arm protocols, Cassandra stomps her way down the steps of the cave. 

Bruce manages to keep his inward panic concealed as he approaches the young girl. Cassandra comes to a stop in front of Bruce, pointing to herself and very angrily signing “help” quickly. 

“No.”

Even more frustrated, Cassandra brings her hands back together, creating a thumbs up on an open palm, moving both hands up and down very quickly, as if trying to say “help” over and over in quick succession. Frustration is shown in her every limb as she continues to sign “help” over and over, pointing to herself in between. 

Bruce sighs. He very gently grabs her wrists, asking her to calm down, “I know you want to help, but it is far too dangerous. What if that man is still after you?”

Cassandra shook her head. She pulled her wrists from Bruce’s hands and stepped back. She once more pointed to herself. She crossed her arms into an “x” shape and pulled her arms apart. She then looked down at her hands, lost for a moment, before she apparently remembered and brought her fingers to her chin and brought them down once more. 

“You fight well?”

She nodded confidently. Bruce felt skeptical. He turned to look at Barbara, who simply shrugged before complimenting Cassandra’s sign language. Sighing, he gestured to the mats, “Prove it.”

Cassandra seemed taken aback for a moment before nodding. 

Both took off their shoes and took to the mat. Bruce was dressed in his batsuit, sans the cowl and cape. Cassandra was dressed in the black hoodie and jeans she had been originally wearing the night Bruce had found her. 

Bruce nodded, Cassandra returning the gesture. He moved quickly, throwing a punch she could easily dodge. Stepping to the side, Cassandra moved away from his fist and immediately took to a fighting stance once more. Bruce had thrown enough force into his punch to communicate to her that there would be no holding back in this fight. Bruce was not planning on allowing her to come. 

They circled one another for a few seconds before Bruce decided to strike again. As if she anticipated his attack, Cassandra easily moved out of the way, side stepping and hitting Bruce’s elbow, knocking his arm away. She stepped into his space, sending a punch into his gut. 

All the air in his lungs was knocked out of him as Bruce stumbled back, collecting himself. Cassandra didn’t wait for him to recover, sending a roundhouse kick in his direction. Bruce lunged out of the way, still collecting his breath as he blocked Cassandra’s next kick, grabbing her leg and flipping her on her stomach. 

Cassandra spun out of his hold, quickly taking his feet out from under him and pinning Bruce. Bruce could easily escape her hold at this point, being bigger and more experienced than Cass, but she has proven her point. Bruce was frozen, staring up at Cassandra as she stepped away and offered to help him up. 

Bruce took her extended hand, still starstruck. She dusted herself off, smiling. Bruce cleared his throat, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Cassandra paused, looking away. Before Bruce could implore further, Jason’s voice carried across the cave, “Damn.”

“That would be a dollar in the jar, Master Jason.”

Jason groaned, grabbed a dollar out of his pocket and handed it to Alfred. Bruce has long since given up disciplining Jason’s vulgar language, “What are you doing down here?”

Jason turned to Bruce, halfway dressed into his Flying Ace uniform, “I’m coming. I was cleared for the field weeks ago, Bruce. I’m ready.”

Bruce worked up a rebuttal in his throat when Cassandra put a hand on his arm. Both Cass and Jason put on their best puppy dog eyes. Bruce felt all the fight leave his body as fast as he had hit the floor, “Only if you follow my every order.”

Jason’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas as he nodded his head in quick succession, walking after Bruce back to the blue prints and repeating things like “I promise I’ll be good” and “I’ll listen to you the whole time” even though Bruce had already said yes. 

Bruce tried to hide the smile trying to peek through. It was hard to imagine his life before Jason now. It all just blended into a muddy, dark storm. 

He only prayed more blessings would come.

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing slowly made his way through the tunnels. The dripping of water throughout the cave as well as the occasional squeaking of bats was giving him a headache. The floor was smooth and slippery, allowing his footsteps to be silent, but also making him watch his footing. He slipped twice towards the mouth of the cave and as he approaches the main area, he cannot afford such a slip up. 

Nightwing had left a motorcycle at the entrance of a side tunnel. The Batcave had hundreds of smaller tunnels running all throughout Gotham, one located under the manor and overlooking the ocean. You need to go off road a bit, but the tunnel’s entrance is secluded enough for Dick to hide his motorcycle for safe keeping. It is only an hour long walk, which was also convenient. 

Dick felt sweat drip down his brow. If anything, he was always cold in the cave, even with his insulated Nightwing suit. But right now, he was baking. Nightwing probably had three layers on top of his costume, something that he would be grateful for later. For now, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and continued forward.

Voices reached his ears as Dick neared towards the cave’s main area. Just as in his universe, the tunnel he had chosen opens up above the rafters, allowing Nightwing to look down into the cave and not be spotted (except for a few security lasers he had to disable). 

Looking down, Nightwing could see the batfamily near the rear of the Batplane (or whatever they called it here). Batman was probably debriefing him based on how bored Jason looked. He could see Alfred, Jason, Bruce, Barbara, and even Cassandra. This mission must really be all hands on deck. 

Stepping away from the entrance, Nightwing pulled a small backpack from his back and went over his supplies again. Oxygen mask, extra layers (just in case), Wingdings, smoke pellets, and even a first aid kit. 

He slid down the tunnel’s wall until he was comfortably sitting on the ground. He listened and listened as Bruce seemed to talk forever about the plan. He couldn’t hear very well from here, but Dick had already heard the entire debriefing from the comms.

Eventually, Batman stopped talking and he heard the plane rev. Cursing, Nightwing silently hopped onto the rafters and slowly climbed his way down into the main area. Not only attempting to avoid Batman, but especially Aflred’s sight, he managed to sneak around the equipment before making a sprint for the plane’s wheel.

Stowing away on the plane’s wheel was extremely dangerous, but Nightwing knew this plane like the back of his hand. He was confident enough to give it a shot. Dick jumped atop the plane’s wheel before climbing along the machinery into the wheel’s compartment. He tucks himself as close as possible to the compartment’s wall as the wheel starts spinning, meaning the plane is about to take off. He is laying prone, stomach to the floor and barely enough headspace to do a push-up. 

He takes three deep breaths, willing to calm himself as the sound of whipping wind becomes louder. The plane groans and shakes as the aircraft picks up speed. Dick remembers his breathing exercises, hanging on as tight as possible to anything he can grab. The plane picks up speed and he can feel gravity begin to pull him down. 

Nightwing hangs on for dear life as he watches the cave slip past him. It’s all rock, rock, rock, before he finally spots water. They’ve left the cave. Nightwing feels the blood rushing to his face as he continues to defy gravity. The gears around him groan and Dick then knows he’s made it to the hard part.

The plane’s gears shift as the wheel prepares to retract. Nightwing does his best to push himself as close to the wall as possible. He bites back a groan as his muscles scream. The gears make their way back into the plane and Nightwing shifts slowly, barely avoiding being crushed by the large machinery. 

He breathes heavily as the oxygen depletes from the small compartment, but he pushes through as the wheel finally enters its resting area. The wheel is spinning faster than his brain can process and Nightwing quickly leans away from the spinning wheel, feeling heat on his face from the sheer speed the wheel is spinning.

The door to the wheel compartment finally, finally, closes and Nightwing takes a breath. He quickly remembers his lack of oxygen in the small space and reaches to grab around his backpack. He can barely rotate his shoulder in the small space, but his natural flexibility allows him to reach around and grab the oxygen mask he had stashed this morning. He quickly straps it to his face and allows himself to slowly breathe back in oxygen, trying not to shock his body with too much air too fast. 

Even with all the layers, Nightwing feels his body violently shake and his ears pop as they finally reach full altitude. Shivers run throughout his body and he can no longer feel his face. The oxygen from his mask is small and slow. Nightwing begins seeing spots in his vision before he blacks out entirely. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Nightwing is in and out of consciousness throughout the entire flight, only feeling snippets of cold, uncomfortable, loud. 

There is a sudden shift around him that finally makes him coherent. Nightwing blurrily blinks away his foggy vision when sunlight breaches his eyes. The sun is bright and beautiful… but how can he see the sun from within the wheel compartment?

Fear takes over Nightwing’s body as he grabs onto the plane’s leg as tightly as possible. The wheel of the plane withdrew and Nightwing held on for dear life. The wind whipped in his hair and the familiar feeling of aching muscles returned as Nightwing once again worked against gravity. 

It felt like hours when the plane finally landed and Nightwing let go. He hit the ground with a thud and suppressed a groan when he heard the stairwell for the plane open. Bracing himself, Nightwing dragged his tired body across the pavement to hide behind the wheel. 

He heard one by one as his family departed from the plane and entered the compound. Nightwing tried to stand up, but his body quickly protested and collapsed back onto the wheel for support. He gently lowered himself back onto the ground.

“Maybe just a quick break.”

. . . . . . . . . .

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Dick counted five minutes in his head before picking himself up once more. He braced himself on the wheel, taking a few breaths before his mind and body finally settled.

Nightwing turned to where his family had run off to. He was in the middle of the woods, only a few hundred feet from Ra’s Al Ghul’s palace. The surrounding pines were tall and whimsical, but in the distance he could see the peaks of the palace towers peeking through the tree line.

He walked slowly, taking time in between to stretch, and left behind the plane. As his confidence returned, Nightwing’s pace became quicker and quicker until he was in a full sprint through the woods. 

With the palace in sight, Nightwing began coming up with a game plan. He surely lost a lot of time recovering from the plane ride and would need to catch up with his family. Hopefully, Barbara had taken care of the cameras as planned and he could sneak in easily.

Nightwing came to a full stop as he heard groaning. He stood and listened, slowly looking to his left and determining that the groaning was coming from a bush. 

Parting the leaves, Nightwing discovered a guard that had been supposedly knocked out. If he had to guess, Cass did it. The guard was dressed in heavy black, a mask concealing his face (a traditional League of Assassins uniform). Nightwing smiled ear to ear as a plan finally cemented itself in his brain.

Time for a wardrobe change.

. . . . . . . . . .

Jason raced through the halls alongside his father, newly adopted sister, and Barbara. They passed by rooms and took out guards along the way, Barbara cursing under her breath the whole time. It was starting to get on Jason’s nerves. 

Barbara slowed, “I put the cameras on a loop, but only for a few seconds, they’re going to notice.”

Bruce continued his pace, “That’s okay. As long as R’as doesn’t know it’s us, we will be fine.”

Bruce grunted as he turned a corner and knocked out a goon waiting on the other side. Cass ran past him and took out the grunt’s partner. Jason followed behind, a  little out of breath.

Bruce noticed his heavy breathing, “Are you alright? Do we need to stop?”

Bruce moved to put his hand on Jason’s shoulder, but Jason shrugged him off, “I’m fine.”

Cass pointed down the hall, towards a metal door that started wiggling. The door slammed open and several guards stormed the hall to face the family. Everyone slouched into a fighting stance before throwing themselves into the fight. 

Jason met a taller guard head on. He blocked the guard’s katana with his own Bo staff, turning in an attempt to sweep the legs. The goon stepped on the Bo Staff, bringing it to a stop and laughing. Jason took the opportunity to release his weapon and send a round house kick to the goon’s head, knocking him out cold. 

Jason pumped his fist in victory. The goon’s sword landed on the ground, scraping the concrete. A loud, grating noise of metal on concrete breached Jason’s ears, transforming into a horrifying laughter. The joker stood before him, picking up the sword and swinging it at Jason. Jason quickly leaped out of the way, his breath quickening. 

Dodging the Joker’s sword again, Jason bumped into Bruce, falling to the ground. Bruce quickly kicked away a guard before turning to Jason, swallowing his whole vision, along with the Joker. Jason quickly started shoving at Bruce, desperately pointing behind him. 

Batman quickly swiveled, Battarangs at the ready, but all of the guards had been knocked to the floor. Batman physically relaxed, turning back to Jason, “Are you alright?”

Jason took long, deep breaths before looking down at the floor, his hands still shaking, “I’m fine.”

Bruce offered him a hand and Jason hesitantly took it, allowing Bruce to lift Jason to his feet. Moving his hand to Jason’s shoulder, Bruce looked him up and down, checking for injuries, “If you are not mentally prepared for the mission, I can call it off.”

“No!”

Bruce startled a bit at Jason’s outburst. Flying Ace quickly centered himself, his cheeks turning rosy with embarrassment. Bruce sighed, “Alright.”

Barbara was huddled a few feet away, still cursing under her breath before shouting in excitement. Cassandra tilted her head, confused at the older girl’s outburst. Barbara turned to Batman, “I can’t fix the camera problem. But on the upside, Alfred emailed me blueprints of the palace.”

“Do we know if the blueprints are reliable?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Batman nodded, allowing Batgirl to lead the way. 

. . . . . . . . .

Nightwing breathed a sigh of relief. He felt a little guilty posing as Alfred, but at least Barbara had the blueprints now. He just hoped they weren’t outdated. Or… would it be indated?

Dick froze as guards poured through the halls, ignoring him entirely. Trying not to act suspicious, Nightwing fell into a pace next to the guards, running down the halls alongside them. 

Based on how frantic the league was acting, Dick was going to guess that Bruce and the family had been spotted. He heard authoritative shouts down the hall as the group he was running with came to a stop in a larger room. Talia stood in the center, shouting and pointing every which way. 

All the guards listened, following suit and flooding the halls. Nightwing stayed where he was, waiting for the room to empty itself. After the room had thinned a bit, Talia caught sight of him. A guard who had not heard her orders. Before she could shout at him, Nightwing tilted his head towards a backroom, stepping through the threshold and waiting for her to follow. 

He stood in the center of the room, sword in hand. Talia entered, shutting the door behind her. She was armed as well, pulling her sword from its sheath. 

“Talia.” He greeted.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Damian solemnly exited the cell, silently shutting the door behind him. The hall was dimly lit with a warm, orange light originating from torches decorating the wall. He sighed, turning and walking down the long, cold hallway. 

He had disobeyed his grandfather, and in turn his grandfather had locked him in a cell for three days. It was far from the worst punishment, but his muscles were sore from being stuck in the cramped cell. A small part of him missed his mother, even if he was forbidden from admitting so. 

He exited the dark hallway as he entered the palace, greeting the guard waiting for him with a nod. The guard had sympathy in her eyes, but Damian steeled his expression and shook his head in disappointment. 

Were these the soldiers his grandfather had been employing? They were all weak and emotionally compromised. Damian surpassed all of them. While a small part of him felt hurt that he was punished so severely compared to the rest of the league, Damian knew it was for good reason. He was being trained to be the best. To surpass them all. 

Damian knew his purpose. 

Before he could take another step, a dozen soldiers raced down the hall, all shouting and barking orders incoherently. Damian quickly snatched the guard’s sword, stopping one of the running soldiers. “Are we under attack?”

“Batman has been spotted at the east entrance. Your mother ordered us to intercept him.”

The guard did not have time for any follow up questions, immediately continuing their sprint. Damian froze, whispering a name of a man he did not think he would ever come face to face to.

“Father.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“Left.”

Barbara had taken the lead, following the blueprints Alfred had given her. The group raced through the halls, in search of the boy they came to rescue. 

“Right.”

Cassandra was on Barbara’s left, just behind her. While they took up the front, Batman and Flying Ace lagged behind, arguing the whole way. Even Cassandra was starting to get frustrated with them. 

As they turned another corner, Cassandra passed Barbara, taking out a guard that was hidden behind the wall. All it took was a roundhouse kick to the head to knock out the guard cold. Barbara quickly pulled up the map again, lifting her arm to look down at her wrist watch Bruce had given her. 

They were still being developed, so the wrist watch was a little buggy. She slapped the screen a few times until it stopped glitching, “This way.”

“I’m fine, Bruce! Lay off.” Jason’s shouts became louder as the duo continued to argue with each other. 

Cassandra rolled her eyes as both her and Barbara stopped, waiting on the boys to catch up. Barbara massaged her temples, willing her headache to go away. When Barbara first aligned herself with Batman, she saw him as a passive, unstoppable figure who was always in control. Turns out, he’s a tired dad (with anxiety too).

Cassandra raised her hands and subtly signed something along the lines of “should we ditch them?” in the corner of Barbara’s vision. Cassandra was quickly becoming her favorite. She was quiet, listened to orders, and was very skilled.

As their arguing grew louder, the hallway flooded with a group of soldiers. Cassandra and Barbara quickly dropped into a fighting stance, the boys taking a couple seconds longer to notice that they had company. 

Pulling out her batarangs, Barbara dodged the swipe of a sword and quickly disarmed the man, knocking him towards Cassandra, who quickly took them out. After the fight stretched several seconds, she turned to check on Batman and Flying Ace, who had disposed of their group of soldiers… and they were arguing again.

She did not want to play mom right now.

Groaning, Batgirl left Cassandra to take care of the remaining guards. Stomping her way to the two boys, they both immediately stopped arguing and turned to watch her. Crossing her arms, Barbara kept her voice lower than theirs, but still loud enough to be stern, “You’re going to ruin the mission if you two don’t stop acting like children. You’re lucky you invited Cass,” she poked Batman in the chest, “Because without her, we would have been killed several times already.”

As if to emphasize her point, Cassandra punched a guard in the face, then used him as a springboard to spin and kick another one, knocking them both out in a second. Batman looked down, while Jason crossed his arms and grumbled. 

Barbara sighed, “Jason’s been doing this longer than I have, I think he can handle a simple mission,” she turned her gaze to Jason, “And lay off of him Ace, you almost died six months ago. Batman’s obviously going to worry.”

Jason uncrossed his arms and scratched the back of his head. The mumbled “sorry” almost went unheard. By the time all three turned to aid in the fight, Cassandra was standing alone in the hallway, aside from the ten bodies laying unconscious around her.

Batman gave an approving grunt before looking to Barbara for directions. Looking back down to her wristwatch, Barbara pointed down the hall, “This way.”

Turning the corner, Barbara immediately came to a stop. Ra’s Al Ghul himself stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by guards. A scowl formed on his face as he addressed the family, “Detective.”

Batman stepped past Barbara, regarding Ra’s with the same amount of hostility, “I’m here for my son.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Talia’s sword clashes into Nightwing’s sword, sending a shrilling sound echoing throughout the room. He quickly deflects, sending Talia onto defense. He stabs with his sword, hoping to get a lucky cut, but Talia easily twirls and knocks his sword back, giving her the advantage once more. 

Talia stopped, holding her sword in front of her and pointing it at Dick. He stopped as well, waiting to see her next move.

“Who are you?” She demanded.

“Who do you think?”

“I think you’re an imposter.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” Dick managed the deepest and most sarcastic voice he could, watching in satisfaction as Talia’s face scrunched into a scowl, and she attacked him once more. Talia’s attacks came in swift and powerful, as Nightwing easily blocked each time. 

He deflected her sword away, preparing to strike, when a small figure caught his eye. 

Damian.

Damian stood in the doorway, still as a statue, as he took in the scene before him. His mother was fighting a strange man wearing the league’s clothes. He frowned.

Dick felt tears prick his eyes. That frown. Damian was trying to be intimidating, but Dick almost cooed. He felt his sword slightly lower as he took in the child before him. Damian was smaller and skinnier. His features were still the same, a scowl sitting on his lips. His face mirrored Bruce so much it hurt. 

Dick had not seen Damian in almost four years. Well before his time in Spyral. It hurt. Dick felt a thick pain in his chest. He longed to run up and hug Damian, to take him far away from here to safety. But that’s exactly why Dick was here. To save him. 

Before Dick could recollect himself, Talia’s sword whistled through the air as she sliced open Dick’s thigh. Grunting, Dick stepped back, immediately applying pressure to the wound. 

“Go protect your grandfather,” Talia barked, “I’ve got this handled.”

Damian hesitated but nodded, sprinting down the hall. Dick couldn’t help the small laugh he let out. Even with an injured leg, Dick was twice the fighter Talia was. Not to say she wasn’t skilled, but Dick was trained by the Bat. 

“What’s so funny?”

“That you think you have an advantage here.” Dick smirked, lunging forward and grabbing Talia’s sword as well as her other hand. He crossed them and spun Talia, trapping her in a tight hold. Talia struggled, but Dick paid her no mind, “You should know better than to have a kid here.”

Talia screamed, outraged. She elbowed Dick, escaping his hold and stepping back, “You know nothing.” She spat. 

“This isn't a safe environment for a child. Violence, belittlement. Do you not know what Ra's’ plans are for Damian?” Dick practically shouted, trying to keep his cool.

Talia glanced away for a moment, before anger covered her features, “How do you know his name?”

Dick grunted, wearing his best Batman impression, “How do you think?”

Dick has never seen Talia more enraged than she was now. He could practically hear her blood vessels popping, “You tricked me… Who are you?” she screamed. 

Dick quickly threw his weapon to the ground, the clattering of the blade calling for silence throughout the room. Talia hesitated, waiting for Nightwing’s next move. He took a deep breath, “You know Damian can’t be here much longer,” Talia began holding her breath, “You’re not exactly winning ‘Mother of the Year’, but I know you care for the kid. You love him. And deep down, you would kill your father if it meant protecting him.”

Talia slowly stood up, holding the vigilante’s gaze.

Dick continued, “This is your chance to get him out of here. Away from Ra’s and away from this hell. Let his father take him.”

Talia practically growled. But after a moment, she lowered her weapons, “I better not see your face ever again,” she spat. 

Nightwing gave her a slow nod. She exited, taking her weapon with her, and slammed the door. Dick immediately doubled over, clutching his throbbing thigh. He hissed as he peeled back the sliced fabric, revealing a red, oozing liquid.

Nightwing held his breath as he lifted himself up, turning towards the door. He had a medkit in his backpack. He just had to hope Bruce could get the kid out of here unscathed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Batman slipped past Jason like a cat, weaving through swords and fists to meet Ra’s Al Ghul head on. They were exchanging words between blows, but Jason instead turned his attention to the soldiers swinging their swords at him. 

Remembering Bruce’s training, Jason dodged the swords, disarmed the guards, and sent them flying to the floor. The sheer number of guards should have felt overwhelming, but Barbara and Cassandra were strong by his side.

Cass almost floated through the fight, perfectly dodging her enemies and striking them back. It was as if she knew what they were going to do before they did. She gracefully disarmed a guard and sent them towards Jason, who knocked them out with a swift kick. 

Barbara’s nose was still in her wrist watch, but eventually she turned it off to focus on the fight. She took over helping Cass so that Jason could peel off and keep the guards away from Batman and Ra’s fight. As they fought, Jason could see the enemy become more and more hesitant to continue the fight. It was clear who was going to win.

As Jason took out another guard, he saw a small figure in the corner of his eye. Before he could turn, Jason was kicked in the side of the head. He immediately rolled up off the floor into a fighting stance. In front of him stood a short, dark figure dressed in a fancier uniform than the other guards. He barely met Jason’s chest.

The boy lowered his hood and had a confident smirk on his face. The boy had dark hair, tan skin, and bright green eyes. There was something familiar about the boy’s features, but Jason brushed it aside for later. The small boy raised his fists, determined to finish the fight. Jason held back a laugh, “I’m not going to fight an eight year old.”

The boy’s smirk turned into a frustrated frown, “You only fear losing.”

“Hah! The only thing I fear is you crying to your mommy.”

Letting out an angry yell, the young boy charged Jason. Jason easily dodged the boy, but the kid kept him off balance. He was good, definitely trained. The boy was quick, but lacked the same force Bruce would have behind his blows. He caught the boy’s fists and flipped him around, pulling the boy to his chest. The kid squirmed, before throwing back his head and making contact with Jason’s nose.

He immediately dropped the boy and wiped the tears from his eyes. Looking up, the boy’s annoying smirk returned, “You do not deserve your title as Batman’s protege. Only a fool would be dismantled by a clown.”

Jason clenched his shaking fists, willing himself to stay calm, but the boy continued to talk.

“You are nothing but a whimpering dog. I have been trained since birth to fight. I am the only true successor the bat will ever have. As soon as he sees me, he will throw you aside like trash.”

Jason froze. This boy. This is Bruce’s son, the entire reason they were there. There was no mistaking it. The frown, the face, the way the boy moved. This was Bruce’s son. His real son.

Bruce’s kid started charging again, this time with a sword. Jason quickly pulled out his Bo Staff to deflect the blade. After a few swipes, the kid managed to lock their weapons. The boy leaned in, “You are pathetic. No wonder Father left you for the clown.”

Outraged, Jason broke the hold and kicked the boy in the chest, sending him to the ground, “I’m going to put you on your ass,” he growled.

They once more entered in a fight, this time with Jason taking the upper hand. Even though he wanted nothing more than to put the kid in his place, his muscle memory took over as he continued to avoid hurting the kid. 

The green eyed boy sliced parts of Jason’s uniform, but Jason eventually wrangled the weapon away from him. Jason then tackled the boy. They wrestled on the floor until Jason eventually got him in a strong hold, one that he couldn’t escape.

Jason breathed heavily, catching his breath, “Bruce wants nothing to do with a spoiled brat like you. He’s only here because of his damn code.”

The younger boy’s features folded into a scowl. But just as he worked up a response, a sharp clang ran through the room. Everyone froze. In the center of the chaos, Ra’s Al Ghul laid on the ground, Batman looking down at him, victorious. 

The boy stopped struggling and stared in disbelief. Ra’s Al Ghul slowly lifted himself off the ground, facing the bat with an angry scowl. 

Talia burst into the room, stopping to glance at the boy and then her father. She slowly lowered her sword into its sheath. Talia looked worse for wear. Jason had never seen her with more than a little fold in her dress, but right now she had a few cuts on her uniform and her hair was sticking out every which way. 

The boy’s attention was resting only on Talia. That’s when Jason remembered that Talia was supposedly his mother. Scoffing, Jason released the kid and stepped back, standing next to Barbara. Barbara rested her hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod. Setting aside a warm swell in his chest, Jason turned at the sound of Talia’s voice.

“Damian, this is your father.”

All eyes turned to Batman, who was looking at Talia, having lost interest in Ra’s. Damian, that’s a dumb name, stepped towards his mother and Batman’s gaze moved to the small boy. Talia walked to Damian and put her hands on his shoulders, “You get to choose. You can go with your father, back to Gotham, or you can stay here.”

Ra’s angry “what?” went completely ignored.

Damian looked down, pondering. His face scrunched before he looked back at his mother, “I have made my decision.”

Damian folded his hands behind his back and faced his father, “You have bested my grandfather in battle. It is clear I have much more to learn from you than him,” Talia had made it to Ra’s Al Ghul’s side and calmly held him in place as Damian stepped towards his father, “if you would accept me.”

Batman nodded, “Of course.”

Jason deflated a little bit against his will. He’s happy they completed the mission, but he had a feeling Damian was going to be a thorn in his side. 

Batman spared Ra’s a nod before exiting, everyone following behind. Jason noticed Damian hesitating, but continued following his dad out of the palace.

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick winced as the water seeped into his wound. Once the water bottle was empty, he set it to the side and continued wiping dirt and debris away with an extra pair of sweatpants he brought. As he wrapped his leg, Dick’s wrist watch beeped. 

“Mission success.”

Dick relaxed his shoulders, slumping against a tree stump. Dick doesn’t know what else he expected, as Batman almost never failed. Now that Damian was safe, Dick quickly dressed the wound and started layering up. He obviously did not wear enough clothes during the initial flight. 

When he hears footsteps, Dick quickly limped behind a large tree, hiding himself from view. Batman emerged first, followed by everyone else. 

Bruce and Jason were bickering, but once the plane was in sight, Jason stomped ahead of everyone else to board it. Barbara and Cass followed. Bruce slowed down to walk next to Damian. Dick waited for them to talk, but Batman just continued towards the plane. 

Dick let out a frustrated sigh. Damian whipped around and Dick ducked behind the tree once more. After a few moments, Damian boarded the plane and Dick quickly sprinted (limped) towards the wheel once more. 

He pulled himself up and settled between all the mechanical parts, bracing himself for another rough ride. As the plane starts and wheels begin spinning, Dick feels his consciousness drift. Exhaustion pulls him into sleep and he couldn’t bother to fight it.

It’s a long flight anyways.

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick blinks slowly against the wind whipping through his hair. He feels weightless. For a moment, he cannot remember who or where he was. It’s when he feels himself let go of something that he remembers. 

Panicked, Dick reached out to hang on to anything he could reach. Dick managed to grab onto the plane’s wheel, but it spun out of his grip as he fell. He spun mid air, only catching glimpses of the plane and water. 

As he hit the water, Dick felt pain spark throughout his chest. He thrashed and struggled to get his extra clothes off, which were weighing him down. Dick felt himself sinking as he managed to tear off the sweatpants and sweater he was wearing. 

Dick’s limbs were screaming by the time he broke the surface of the water. Coughing, he quickly whipped around, looking for any sign of land. He gasped for extra air when he spotted signs of the batcave. Pushing aside his tired limbs and screaming wound, Dick swam as fast as he could towards land. 

After what felt like hours, he dragged himself on the rocky beach, small pebbles scraping Dick’s suit as he flopped onto his back. The dark sky was completely still. Gotham’s smog blocked out the stars, but he knew they were there. 

Groaning, Dick picked himself up and limped towards the cave, being mindful of his leg wound. Just where he left it, his rented cycle was leaning against the cave’s outer wall, concealed by a bush. He pulled himself over the bike and started it, eager to retreat back to his apartment. 

Everyone is safe. Now he can focus on finding a way home.

. . . . . . . . . .

“Hm. I expected it to be bigger,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Quit being a brat,” Jason spat.

“Both of you, quit it! You’ve been arguing since we left.” Barbara headed for the showers, but paused next to Bruce, “I’m going to change and then go home, I don’t need my dad wondering where I am.”

Nodding, Bruce turned towards the two young boys who were still arguing. Though Barbara had been exaggerating, they had not been getting along, “Damian, Jason. Go clean up,” he spoke directly to Damian, “Alfred will show you around the manor.”

As if on cue, Alfred stepped past Bruce and began leading Jason away. Damian hesitated, “What will you be doing, father?”

Bruce suppressed a flinch. Bruce had taken in Jason over two years ago, but Jason had never called Bruce “father” so coldly, without familiarity or warmth. Damian was still standing, waiting for Bruce to answer, “I will stay down here to do a mission report.”

Damian made a strange tutting noise before turning to follow Alfred and Jason. Bruce heard a muttered, “only one butler?” as he left. 

Bruce suppressed a sigh before settling down in front of the Batcomputer. He entered a mindless haze of scrolling through files and documents. Specifically, Bruce looked into the blueprints Alfred had sent Barbara. How did he get these?

Bruce accessed the computer’s mailing history, but did not find any emails sent at the time Barbara received the map. Meaning, Alfred did not send it. Bruce continued typing, trying to track the hacker. After hours of struggling, he finally shut off the computer. 

Before Bruce had a chance to sigh, Alfred appeared beside him, “Sir, we have an issue.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Bruce followed Alfred towards the back of the cave, towards the Batplane, “Is there a malfunction?” he hummed.

“No, another issue.”

Alfred led Bruce to one of the airplane’s wheels. Dark, crimson blood was stuck to the inside of the wheel compartment. There was a smeared hand print on the wheel itself and more on the inside. Bruce hummed, reaching into his belt and swabbing a sample of the blood. It was still fresh. 

“It appears you had a stowaway,” Alfred frowned.

Bruce led them both to the computer once more. They uploaded the sample as the computer hummed, “Barbara received blueprints of Ra’s palace. I am assuming you were not the one to give them to her.”

“I did not.”

The computer made a polite beeping noise, as the results showed on screen. The DNA matched the sock Jason had brought in over a year ago. Alfred’s eyes widened, but Bruce hummed. If there was a threat to his family, he would not rest until it was behind bars. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick winced as the needle pierced his skin. He mindlessly wove in and out as he stitched the wound Talia created. A small part of him felt foolish for being distracted so easily, but a larger part of him was just happy to see Damian.

From what Dick had seen, he looked healthy. His skin was a beautiful tan and his green eyes were alive. The only thing he saw wrong was Damian’s concern for Talia, but that can’t really be fixed.

Dick finished stitching his wound and began packing up his med kit. Now that the family was back together, he needed to find a way back to his universe. He’s been stuck in this hell for almost two years, but he was not planning on sticking around. 

A soft, buzzing noise cut his thoughts short. Following the sound, Dick found his communicator buzzing on the counter. Before he could pick it up, the buzzing stopped. His wrist watch lit up with a new notification. Spoiler had left him a voicemail. He was scared of opening it, but he reminded himself it could be an emergency. Dick settled on his couch and opened the voicemail. 

Stephanie’s voice came through, sounding relatively small but calm. So it wasn’t an emergency, thank God, “Hey, N. I wanted to say sorry about ditching you on the rooftop,” Dick sighed as the voicemail continued playing, “It wasn’t cool of me, but I’m still pretty mad at you.”

There was a pause on the line. Dick almost checked his watch to make sure it hadn’t ended, but Stephanie spoke again, “I’m also worried. You look rough, N. Just know you can always talk to me.”

The line went dead. Dick tossed the watch on the floor and looked over to the empty pot of ramen on the stove (it was his fifth packet that week). Groaning, he held his head in his hands and sank back into the couch. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Chapter Text

Words 2245

Tim gripped his controller a little stronger as Jason slowly got the upper hand. So far, Tim has won every single round and he is not about to let Jason best him. Beside him, Jason was all over the place. While Tim was calm and still, Jason was thrashing around. It was as if he thought getting a different angle would help him win, “You know, pressing the buttons harder doesn’t make you punch harder.”

“Hah! That’s a video game myth. Watch.” Jason had a smug smile on his face, but his overconfidence would be his downfall.

Jason moved his character to do an overhead slam, but Tim chose that moment to dodge and use his ultimate (which he had been saving for two rounds). The screen lit up with colors of all sorts, congratulating Tim on his victory. Tim finally laid back, smirking, as Jason threw down his controller with a groan before flopping onto the floor.

Tim laughed, “I haven’t had to use my ultimate in a while, you’re getting better.”

From his seemingly comfortable spot on the ground, Jason mumbled, “Don’t rub it in.”

“You wanna play another round?”

“No, the floor is my friend now.”

Tim smiled, trying not to laugh at Jason. It had been over a month since he and Jason had been able to hang out like this. Whether a supervillain attacked or Tim had school, there just had not been time. That is why Tim was grateful-

“Master Jason, Mister Bruce requires you in his office. Claims it has to do with English homework.”

Jason perked up from the floor and immediately deflated. Tim understood why. He had figured out immediately that “English Homework” was code for something Batman related. Only an idiot would think that Jason would need help with homework, anyways. Tim felt a speck of disappointment as Jason moved to get off the floor. 

Jason stopped in front of Tim and rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry, we’ll have to hang out tomorrow.”

Tim sighed, trying to hide his disappointment, “It’s fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

Jason smiled with determination before rushing past Alfred and down the hall. Facing Tim, Alfred motioned to the door. Tim collected his belongings and silently made his way out of the manor. 

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder just before he left, “I deeply apologize for how busy Master Jason has been. I assure you, his schedule will be open soon.”

Tim could only hum before Alfred closed the door. Pulling out his phone, Tim smiled when his theory was correct. Arkham breakout. Pocketing the device, Tim began the relatively short walk home. He might as well take the time to work on the evidence board. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick attempted his best “I’m listening” face as the elderly woman continued telling him about her grandson. Not that her story was not interesting, but Dick’s mind was trying to wander somewhere else. After his shift today, Dick was planning on doing more dimensional travel research. Not that it has gotten him literally anywhere. Who knew that a dimension set several years in the past was more technologically behind than his own dimension? 

He groaned internally as the woman led herself into another story. The shop was anything but busy today, as the woman was one of their only customers, but Dick hated sitting idle. He twitched his fingers as he itched for something to do other than standing still. 

Lights frantically changed above him as both Dick and the elderly woman moved their attention towards the television. The channel had forcefully switched to the news as the reporter spoke in a frantic voice. The headlines marked an Arkham breakout just this morning. While a prison break was usually nothing to write home about in Gotham, Dick felt goosebumps as Joker was listed as an escapee. 

Quickly apologizing to the woman, Dick hurriedly walked to the back of the shop and grabbed his belongings, taking the time to give his manager a quick, “I’m headed home early,” before rushing out the door.

Dick got a quick, “Sure, whatever” in return. 

As soon as he was a block away from work, Dick broke out into a sprint to make it home. His body was itching for action and a small smile crept onto his face at the thought of flying again. 

But he had to keep his priorities straight. Protect his family. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Jason pulls up his glove one more time for good measure. He feels the comfort of the red and black Kevlar as he steps out of the locker rooms, feeling more confident than usual. A small part of him was still regretting abandoning Tim, but a larger part of him was excited to fight next to his dad. 

Speaking of, Bruce stood up from the Batcomputer to give Jason a once over, “You checked your grapple, right?”

“Duh.”

“What about your communicator?”

“Of course.”

“What about-”

“Bruce, can we go already? I’ve done this a hundred times.”

Bruce chuckles a little before nodding and turning back to the computer, “Wait for your sister.”

As if on cue, Cass all but runs out of the locker room. She stops and twirls, her new black cape spinning with her. Alfred had spent the last month kitting her out with her own costume. She was dressed in Kevlar from head to toe, a yellow outline of the bat symbol on her chest. The armor was thinner than Bruce’s, but she assured him she would not need the extra protection. 

“Looking good, Cass!” Cass smiled back at Jason, nodding her head and doing a second twirl for good measure.

“I think you all look like morons.” Damian’s voice carried across the cave as he stalked down the steps, stopping in front of his father, “I am glad you finally sent Drake home, he is tarnishing this household with his presence.”

Jason clenched his fists. Damian had been a handful for the last month. He tried escaping the manor at least twice a week, tried to fight Cass, and had insulted Alfred on more than one occasion. He made it very clear Bruce was the only one on the manor’s grounds he would tolerate.

“I told you to stay up stairs.” Bruce deflated, holding his head in his hands.

“The locking system for the cave is juvenile, I was able to bypass it easily.”

“It’s like that for emergencies.” Jason rolled his eyes. Alfred would lock the cave sometimes to keep Bruce upstairs, but in a case of something like an Arkham breakout, like tonight, the lock was easily bypassed. Though, it did alert Alfred whenever it was accessed. 

Bruce and Jason shared a look because they were thinking the same thing. Alfred had let Damian come down. 

Bruce sighed before stepping away from the computer towards Damian, “I cannot allow you to come with us-” Damian’s face scrunched into a glare, “but I would appreciate it if you would stay on comms tonight. We need someone to keep us coordinated through the attack.”

Damian took a moment to think before Jason heard that strange tutting noise he always made, “Fine. If you are all in need of my help, I will assist.”

Damian stepped past his father and seated himself in the chair. When he could not reach, he stood up on the chair and leaned forward to reach the keyboard. Jason would have found it cute if he didn’t feel like punching the kid in the face. 

Jason and Bruce sat down in the Batmobile as Cass moved to sit on a Batcycle. As soon as the doors closed, Bruce dialed Alfred’s number, “Why is Damian in the cave?”

“Yeah Alfred, what the heck!”

Bruce put a placating hand on Jason’s shoulder, lowering him back into the seat. On the other line, Alfred hummed, feigning innocence, “I was not aware Master Damian was not in his room. I am currently out running errands.”

Bruce gave a frustrated grunt as Alfred continued, “Perhaps if you gave the boy more of your time, you would see him less as a thorn in your side. Take him out, Bruce. A boy needs to stretch his legs.”

Bruce hummed and hung up the phone. Sighing, he pressed his foot to the gas and floored it out of the cave gripping the wheel tighter, the old pair made their way into Gotham. Like a moth to a flame, they braced themselves for a shitshow.

. . . . . . . . . .

Dick felt the pull on his arm as he whipped through the Gotham air on his grapple. The line shook under his weight, but held itself. Putting aside the need to check his equipment more often, Dick landed securely on a rooftop to take stock of the situation.

The streets look calm enough, but Dick knew it would not be that way for long. Tuning into the chatter in his ear, Batman’s voice flooded his mind as he barked orders. Cassandra was fighting Poison Ivy downtown, Batman and Flying Ace were taking on Killer Croc in the sewer, and Barbara was dealing with Mr. Freeze. 

Running along the rooftops again, Dick listened to both the bat channel and police chatter simultaneously. It was giving him a headache, but also both would give him the necessary intelligence he would need. Worry grew in his gut as he looked over the escapee list. Bruce was prioritizing Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, and Mr. Freeze over Scarecrow and Joker, who had also escaped. 

Dick understood Bruce’s plan. Bruce still can’t bring himself to leave Jason alone, so they both took on Killer Croc, arguably one of the most dangerous escapees. Cassandra would take down Poison Ivy, who would have the hand-to-hand combat advantage. If Dick had to guess, Barbara decided to take on Freeze and left Bruce’s judgement out of the question. 

Dick landed on a roof and took a moment to switch off the police chatter, but quickly ducked out of the way when Jason landed on a neighboring rooftop. He heard Jason mentioning a shadow to Bruce, but they quickly moved on. Dick sighed in relief. 

Before he got up, Dick pulled up Spoiler’s contact on his wrist watch. A part of him said no, he shouldn’t pull Stephanie into this. But a louder part of him pressed the call button. Chances were, she was probably already involved. 

“Spoiler.”

“N! Where are you?”

“About the center of Gotham, you?”

“Still getting ready, but I’ll be out there soon to help you.”

Dick heard ruffling on the other end. He contemplated for a moment, “Change of plans. I want you to help with Poison Ivy downtown.”

“What?”

“A new vigilante named Black Bat is trying to take her down by herself. I need you to help her.”

“What about you?”

Dick stood up and eyed a nearby sewer drain, “I’m going to take down Scarecrow.”

“N, by yourself? That’s insane. Do you have any idea what his fear toxin does to people?”

“More than anyone, but it will be fine, I’m immune,” Dick hopped off the roof and flipped his way down onto the street, spotting a nearby manhole cover.

“What, how?”

“I’ve been exposed most of my life, guess I just built an immunity.” Before Steph had the chance to cut him off, Dick spoke quickly, “Can I trust you with this?”

There was a long pause on the other side of the line, “Of course, Nightwing. What are friends for?”

“Thanks, Spoiler.”

He cut the call short and heaved the manhole cover. The smell of the sewer burned his nostrils. He groaned before easing himself down into the sewer.

. . . . . . . . . .

The news hummed in the background as Tim pinned another photo to his evidence board. He took a step back to look at his lovely collection of blurry, gray photos. Sighing, Tim tried tuning back into the news. Ever since he spotted the mysterious vigilante almost a year ago, Tim has barely found a speck of his existence. To this day, the original photo he took is his best one. 

The lady on the news continued to rattle on about the Arkham breakout, listing off the escapees. One in particular caught Tim’s attention. Joker. Jason had never said anything, but Tim had noticed every small flinch or eye twitch whenever he was brought up. 

The news changed the scene to a camera man poorly catching a glimpse of Jason and Bruce slipping into the sewer, a roar of pain erupting from the opening. No doubt Killer Croc.

Tim stared at his evidence board in wonder as the news continued humming in the background. A small voice whispered in the back of his mind, noting that Alfred had left quickly after himself to run errands. 

Tim sat back in thought. He itched to do something, to help Jason in some way. As Tim turned back to the news, a very, very bad idea crossed his mind.

. . . . . . . . . .