Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim felt rather numb and at the same time was shaken after his parents gave up on him that instantly, like they were eager for the nonsense to be over with. The outcome was expected, yet it still hurt. It was one thing to know people didn’t want you, but verifying it was… Well, it left a mark.

Tim tried to justify their actions, like he had already done so many times before. Yes, they were busy (again). Yes, Gotham was basically on fire and needed fixing (more than usually, that is). Yes, their work was important (Yes, it was; and he, apparently, wasn’t).

It didn’t really work.

Moreover, after the long terror of the Court of the Owls, all the survival panic and horror, the world was finally slowing down, and in the wake of that, the buried problems arose, like shy dandelions at the start of a summer.

Some were easily and quickly solved.

For example, Bruce declared that it was bad for Jason to sleep on those chairs, and then there were three bedrooms prepared and cleaned for all the boys to have their own space. The one that had Tim all that time when he was sleeping and now was occupied by Ivy’s plants got closed and barricaded, since nobody wanted the plants to devour the whole mansion, and also nobody dared to cut the semisentient greenery. Tim had a feeling that behind those closed doors Ivy and Harley decided to have their rent-free home, but he had no idea why would Batman let two dangerous villains live in his house (the villains that now also knew his identity, mind you).

It should have been nice to have personal spaces, but it wasn’t.

Tim was lonely, terribly so. He got used to always have someone to chat with, or just be with people around. And now he had to be by himself again, and it left him with too much time for his thoughts to run rampage. He somehow managed to bat (ha) the (thoughts) about him probably actually never seeing his parents again, but there were so many other things to dwell on.

Jason seemed not so happy with the change either. It was hard to tell, since the older boy was avoiding everybody, hiding in his new room now that he wasn’t needed, since Bruce took care that every day, three times a day there was a meal in the dining room, and all day round there was some kind of food for them to snack on if they felt like it.

Bruce was busy, yet also suddenly way too eager to spend time with Tim in the little time he did have and take care of all three of them, which was doing weird things to the boy’s brain functions. It was really embarrassing to be coddled so much, but Harley said that he was supposed to be happy, since, as she insisted, adults were supposed to always take care of the kids, and Tim’s screaming that he was old enough to take care of himself “didn’t mean shit, you itty-bitty puppy, the idiot playboy is barely doing the minimum”.

Tim wasn’t really sure what he felt about this. It was weird, and it made him paranoid, yet at the same time… It felt nice. To be cared about.

It was all a lot and yet not enough to distract him from the thing that worried him the most.

Dick.

Bruce had told them that they may have found if not a cure, then a formula to significantly lessen the talonisation symptoms. This was good news.

The problem was that Dick refused to take anything remotely resembling medicine. The teen was wary and kept running whenever anyone would suggest him taking any of it (or eating food, or going outside, or leaving his room, or… just anything, really).

Dick was… struggling.

It was to be expected, after everything he had been through, but Tim was so frustrated to be useless, so he tried to do anything he could that might help.

Tim dragged Dick from under the bed in futile attempts to make him sit on it, so he could pester the teen to eat, or sleep, or play, or do any of a thousand and one activities that were advised to perform to raise one's spirits, but resulting only in Dick varying his hiding places to the depth of wardrobes and heights of the chandeliers.

Ivy suggested then to catch Dick with her vines, but Tim knew that being restricted freaked Dick out, and the boy didn’t want that, so he rejected the idea. He had to find some other way to help.

When left alone, Dick stayed in his room, crawled under the bed, almost fusing with the wall under it. Not sleeping nor eating, he simply existed, refusing to interact with the world.

This was tearing Tim apart. It was as if he didn’t really help Dick, didn’t even find him at the Court, didn’t get him out at all.

But Tim was stubborn. He refused to give up. It was just…

The boy awkwardly peeked at the door of the teen. It was dark, but Tim could bet that he would find Dick under the bed, as usual. Tim nervously squeezed his new T-shirt that was too big for him.

Tim was stubborn, but it was still hard.

He wanted to try something new today. And he would! He just needed… some time to gather his courage.

He remembered the fierce, unwavering determination of Ms. Waller, back at the basement of the Court of Owls. Tim was determined. But he could be more, he could try to be like her.

Not just determined, but unwavering. Strong, and sure of himself.

With that in mind, Tim crossed the threshold of Dick’s room.

“Dick?” croaked Tim quietly.

The deadly silent room didn’t answer.

Tim creeped inside and went to the joint bathroom in Dick’s room.

Jason had mentioned that Dick had loved the hot water when Bruce had bullied him to the bathroom one time, so today Tim wanted to try make a hot bubble bath.

Tim came back to the room, sat to his knees and crawled under Dick’s bed. There the teen was, shivering under a blanket.

“Dick?” called Tim.

No answer.

Tim didn’t call him Richard. Tim still remembered how raw was Dick’s voice when the teen asked him to be called by the name his parents once called him. But he was told about another name.

“Robin?”

After some silence, Tim was awarded with a quiet, trembling, “I don’t want anyone to change me again, ever.”

“I know. I understand,” answered Tim meekly. “But… I… I wanted… Can you still smell things?”

“What?” asked Dick in bewilderment.

Tim a blush creeping on his cheeks. “Smell. Can you smell what I made in the bath?”

Puzzled, Dick said slowly, “Something… sweet?”

“Yes!” smiled the boy shyly, “And really warm! With bubbles! Do you want to try? It’s nice! I promise! Just… try?”

Hesitantly, Dick got out from under the bed, the younger boy soon joining him. Now, when they were both standing (and not distracted), it was clear how Tim barely made it to Dick's chest.

The teen slowly approached the bathroom, as if expecting to find there something really unpleasant, but was greeted only by cheerful, sparkling pink bubbles with a strong fruity smell in a steaming hot bath.

Dick stepped inside and put his hand in the water, his face relaxing marginally.

“Thank you, Tim.”

The boy felt the redness spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “I’m happy you like it.”

Dick hummed gently, drawing swirling patterns in the water with his finger.

“I know you said you don’t want anyone to change you,” carefully started Tim. Dick froze, but did not bolt yet, so Tim hurried to add, “But they want to undo what was done. It’s undoing, not doing. It can help you be more like yourself.”

Dick closed his eyes and sighed wearily. “What if this is myself? Just a monster that better be left rotting somewhere where it can’t hurt anyone.”

“No! You promised not to call yourself like that! No!”

Dick did not answer.

Desperation was slithering to the young boy’s heart.

“Please?” begged Tim. “Can you think about the cure? Try?”

Dick’s face hardened, as if pained. “I… I don’t think I can be kept calm when they tie me.”

“No tying!” roared Tim, disgusted with the mere idea. “I’ll bite myself anyone who even thinks about it!”

Dick’s lips trembled, almost in a smile.

“It wouldn’t be like the Court! You will not be hurt, there will be no pain, they will stop if you feel bad! It won’t be scary! I will be with you! Later, those two girls also can be with you! And Jason! And Bruce! They are all nice! Just…” Tim’s voice wavered, laced with tears. “Please. Give it a try. Please. It… it hurts to see you this sad, in this pain.”

Dick closed his eyes and almost completely submerged under the bubbly water. Before Tim thought that that was that, a hand shot out and gently took him by the wrist.

 “Okay, Tim,” said Dick slowly, huskily. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

The boy answered with a bright, happy smile.

Chapter Text

A few months later

Looking at the freshly baked breakfast, Jason yawned so hard that for a moment he thought he would snap his jaw.

Ever since Tim has dragged him to the Mansion’s library, Jason had troubles with proper sleeping schedule, but it wasn’t as if he was complaining. The sheer amount of books he could read made him giddy, and each day he loathed to be torn from them to do the mundane things, like eating and stuff.

The Batman-billionaire Bruce guy confused the crap out of Jason. On one hand, the man was huge, his bulk with threatening height was enough to raise alarms in Jason every time he saw the man.

On the other hand, that fear got perplexed every time the man opened his mouth. The feared Batman was awkward. Like, very. Like, ridiculously so.

And also amid disaster at the kitchen.

It was so hard to take him seriously after discovering that the man really did forget about the fact that his big ass mansion needed maintenance, and forgot to tell Tim a bunch of stuff, for which he recently got yelled at by a frail looking British man (who also made Tim cry, but Jason was 99,9% sure those were happy tears).

Jason felt a bit bad that he couldn’t help Tim with all the crazy ideas the kid spawned, but Jason just needed time to get used to his… current circumstances.

He wasn’t entirely sure of his role in the place until the British grandpa told him that, apparently, he was being adopted? By the crazy rich man? It was so bizarre.

He just hoped nobody was expecting him to call the man “dad” or whatever. They didn’t expect that from neither Tim, nor the Pigeon, so Jason assumed he was safe.

Speaking of the Pigeon.

The Pigeon, the less-dead-than-before teenager, was sitting next to Jason, staring at the pile of pancakes and fruits as if they were a particularly unpleasant poison. He was ruffled, as he wasn’t a fan of people touching his head, and in new pyjamas that actually fit him.

Said picture met Jason almost every time he went to kitchen these days. The Pigeon was getting better, with the weird cure Bruce and the heroes had for him, but its progress was slow, and the bird himself wasn’t taking his changes exactly well, too used to the way he had lived for so long. Too often forgot to eat, or sleep. And treated the little enjoyments in life as if they were choirs.

He also was a rather silent one, but not a bad guy. Jason thought that he wouldn’t be against in to become friends.

“So, your name's Dick? That's a fun one,” decided the boy to start a conversation.

The Pigeon startled, sloshing his juice, and blinked, confused.

“Tim told me,” said Jason, trying to get a verbal reaction from the teen.

The Pigeon only nodded. He was so quiet, it was disturbing.

“Do you know why I call you pigeon?”

The teen shook head.

“Aren’t you interested? Even a little bit?”

The teen shrugged.

“It’s because you fly like a bird. And also nest in weird and uncomfortable places, and look as if a long, long time ago you were domesticated, but it was so long ago that you forgot what it is like, to have a home.”

The teen looked so confused he seemed almost constipated, at last, he muttered, “I’m Robin.”

Now was time for Jason to frown. “Weren’t you Dick?”

“I am. But if you want to call me by a bird’s name, then call me Robin,” said the teen unexpectedly seriously.

“Oh-kay,” said Jason.

It was weird to call anyone “dick”, but if the guy wanted it…

Well. At least he was chill, unlike Tim and Steph that gave Jason grief.

Jason never would have thought that these two would become friends, but what do you know, huh?

After coming back and torturing him and Dick to her heart’s content, Stephanie looked around, saw the overworked, anxious kid and decided that teaching him pranks would cheer him up.

Tim saw the sad, overworked girl and decided that agreeing to all and any of her “play tasks” would cheer her up.

And so pranks they did.

To the point that it got out of control and Jason preferred to be as far away from these two as possible.

Jason’s lazy gaze fell on a bright box with a rainbow unicorn on it. It was left by one of the heroes when the British guy basically highly politely threw out all the fancy-pants guys out of the house, shy of barricading the doors, all in order to ‘not disturb the neighbours’.

 Jason got an idea.

“Hey. Have you ever tried cereal?”

“I… don’t think so?” finally rasped the teen, cocking his head to the side in a truly bird-like manner.

Jason grinned and waltzed to the box and fridge. Remembering about the dead teen’s aversion to cold, he quickly heated the milk in the microwave before putting a bowl of it and the cereal with a spoon in front of the puzzled bird.

“Try it!” encouraged Jason. “It crunches! And has a shitton of sugar. And a toy, I think. Do you like toys? Or sweet stuff?”

The bird was too preoccupied looking at the contents of the bowl, which resembled some rainbow vomit. Jason tried the mixture once and nearly died. It was extremely sugary.

The bird just kept staring. He was not even blinking.

“What?” finally said Jason self-consciously. “Is something wrong with it?”

 “It sparkles?” rasped the bird, fascinated.

“Oh. I guess? They are probably sprinkles or something,” said Jason and timidly sat next to the teen. “Will you try it? It might be even better when you eat it.”

“Oh,” said the bird awkwardly, as if he forgot that option, “Yes.”

The next second the bird took a spoon in, and then opened his eyes so wide, Jason threw himself over the table in panic that he somehow managed to break the undead assassin.

But then the teen smiled more brightly than Jason ever saw him. “This is so good!”

Jason let out a stressed sigh and fell bodily on the table. “Cool. Cool-cool. Glad that, eh, you liked it. You good? Good-good?”

“Yeah, that’s awesome!”

“Nice.”

Jason would probably have to tell Tim and the others that maybe instead of healthy foods they just have to try showing pure, highly coloured sugar in the bird. The guy looked finally so eager for the food that Jason was surprised that there was no happy chirping or something. Like pigeons do when you throw them some nice bread. They would have to work to make the bird more human, magical cure aside, he needed to behave like a person too. He couldn’t do the things he did now as an adult, when he grew up. That made Jason wonder.

“When you become human, will you have a beard?”

“I don't want to have a beard.”

“But you could've! That could be cool!”

A door screeched open, like in one of those cheap horror movies.

“What would be cool?” asked a familiar voice.

Jason’s eyebrow twitched. He hurried to crawl under the table, and then run to the second door.

“Jason thinks I must have a beard. I don’t want to have a beard,” huffed the bird.

“Oh, was our book hermit here?!”

“Tattletale,” muttered under his breath Jason, as he managed to successfully escape the death trap.

Jason closed the door just in time to see Tim joining Stephanie, as they crowded the bird with questions.

The bird was lucky, since was literally the only one those two menaces hadn’t tried anything on. Even Bruce got smacked with purple paint once or twice. Hell, Poison Ivy got a DVD collection titled “ecology advice” which turned out to actually be a pathetic recording of some piss poor stand-up guy that delivered truly awful nature puns. It was hard to safe what was scarier, the fact that they allowed a crazy prankster to almost detonate one of the most powerful supervillains left, or the fact that said villain actually laughed (at least Harley said that she did, but she said it so proudly that it probably was true).

Jason was in such hurry to get away that he missed an old man suddenly walking out of one of the corridors and awkwardly collapsed with him.

The thin, frail looking old man turned out to be surprisingly strong. His long fingers snatched Jason’s shoulders and didn’t let him fall face first on the carpet.

“My, my, what’s the hurry, young Master?”

“Hiding from the gremlins”, answered Jason, carefully untangling from the old man. “Sir.”

“Is that so?” asked the man in amusement as a slight crinkle settled near his eyes. “My dear, what have they been up to this time?”

“Stephanie wants to make a glitter bomb. A giant one. Like, really-really big. She got Tim into this. And she wants my help filling it, too. I refuse.”

“And you do not wish to join you friends?”

“Hell, no, I'm the one with the braincell among these freaks," declared Jason.

"What about miss Barbara?”

"And Barbara," amended Jason, rolling his eyes. “But Barbara doesn’t count, she’s barely been here.”

“Be patient, young Master. Miss Barbara’s recovery takes time.”

“Yeah. I know. It still sucks.”

“I can imagine,” politely nodded Alfred. “Regardless, things are looking well, considering everything. Miss Barbara is on the mend, same as this place, even if it does take a lot of time. With this, I wanted to express that I’m terribly sorry that I am not able to tend to your needs properly, young Master. The state of this place is plain dreadful. I feel ashamed.”

“Uhm,” said Jason eloquently, feeling weird with all the formalities. “It’s okay, don’t worry? Um. In any case, you’re already way better at this than I am.”

“Oh,” paused the old man. “What is that you mean, better than you’?”

Jason, fidgeting in front of that proper looking old gentleman in a fancy suit, told about his attempts to keep the place together right after the shit just hit the fan. The butler listened patiently.

“My dear, that was quite unfortunate,” tutted the man. “You have my apologies on my charge’s part.”

Jason thought that the way he said “charge” might have as well been “my moron of a son”. With some warmth, yet also with a strict frown. Wasn’t the Bat this man’s employer? Didn’t seem like it. Not even once in all the time they talked. Felt more like an over energetic cartoonishly kind grandpa with a weird formality quirk, for some reason.

“Um. It’s okay?” said Jason. “It wasn’t exactly his fault, I think. He’s just. Well. Like that.”

“Oh. And what is it you imply, like that?”

Jason fell uncertain, his opinion on the man complicatedly split, before finally blurting, “Brooding neurotic asshole.”

The next second he felt his heart freeze in panic. He just offended the owner of the house. He, a nobody street rat, taken in out of some stupid good will. In front of his butler, who seemed to like the dude.

Jason was afraid as he dared raise his eyes at the man.

The old man was smiling. Fuck this, he chuckled. Chuckled!

Jason stared at the old man as if he grew a second head.

“That he can be,” chuckled the man again, still smiling. “It’s well that he hasn’t tried to tend to the kitchen at least.”

“Oh, he did,” blurted again Jason’s stupid mouth.

“You don’t say?” said Alfred, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He couldn’t look less like an employee in that moment. And he seems genuine. Nice.

It made Jason smile hesitantly and share some more. “I caught him trying to use an oven. It set fire alarms. Plural. As in several times.”

The man was clearly having fun, his moustache trembling slightly.

“My dear, how did he survive all that time he lived be himself, I wonder?”

“I've been curious too! Turns out protein bars can take you a long way,” grinned Jason, feeling the bond form as they were gossiping about the fucking Batman. “It's just this time he didn't think it would be enough and tried for something homey.”

They agreed that Bruce guy was not allowed in the kitchen, with Alfred sharing a portion of his anecdotes of what have happened when the billionaire detective tried to be useful house-wise.

It was nice. Very nice. Cosy. Jason wasn’t sure if he ever felt that nice and light before.

That made him thinking.

“Ehm. Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, young Master?”

“Can you call me Jason? Not, eh, young master or whatever.”

The man stilled, pondering, before nodding with all the seriousness of an old and proper British gentleman. “Off course, Jason. But I would ask you for that to call me Alfred.”

Jason fidgeted, trying to decipher what he was feeling. “Yeah. Sure.”

Then Jason heard steps, and it flittered in his mind in quick turns: oh no, it’s Stephanie. Wait, the steps are too heavy for her. Wait, then is it…

“Alfred?”

“Master Bruce.”

Jason couldn’t have said that he was exactly privy to typical parent-child communication, yet even he could tell that the tone meant “oh-oh, you’re in trouble”

“Alfred…”

And that tone meant “oh shit, I’m fucked”.

“Master Bruce. You made a child be the head of nutrition of the house?”

“Ehm. I...”

Jason almost felt pity to the rich dude.

“You forgot that basic human needs are an issue that needs to be covered?” said Alfred with an unimpressed eyebrow.

For the life of him Jason was unable to say if he was serious, or it was sarcasm.

“Yes?...”

Alfred’s eyebrow twitched.

“Sorry, Al,” murmured the giant man, as he surely mentally tried to escape through the floor.

“No need apologising to me,” said Alfred. “Apologise to the young man that you made responsible for caring after your adult butt.”

Butt?..

“It was a misunderstanding…”

Alfred raised his British eyebrow again.

“It was my mistake, this will not happen again. It will not be able to happen, since the boys will be at school most of the day, starting next month, when September hits.”

“I get to go to school?!” yelled Jason, half-shocked, half-awed.

Bruce startled, seemingly forgotten about the boy while being scold, and then huffed in amusement. “Yes, you and Tim will definitely go. I’m glad for your enthusiasm. Hope some of it can rub on Tim.”

“Tim’s plenty smart,” defended the kid Jason.

“That he is,” nodded Bruce, and then sighed in defeat. “He is also stubborn a plenty, and maintains a blatant disrespect towards any authority, which school also happens to be.”

“I can hear you, you know!” screamed Tim from somewhere up the stairs. “I can study fine on my own!”

“You need socialising!” screamed Bruce back.

Alfred made a funny sound as he tried to conceal his laughter and keep a straight face.

Jason smiled stealthily.

A thought appeared in his head that while he wasn’t ready to call Bruce “dad” in the foreseeable future, he could probably work with calling Alfred “grandpa”.

“Fooound you!” screamed Stephanie and Jason felt her arms engulfing his still lesser frame. “You made as look all over the place! So, now – revenge!”

“Revenge!” added Tim, hurrying up to join them, his Steph's faces cracking in the same menacing smiles.

Jason felt dread.

Chapter Text

Another few months later

Dick felt sleepy.

He always felt sleepy now. The cure that he was taking worked, if slowly, steadily making him less of a monster.

His eyes, while still slit and yellow, were no longer glowing, and it was harder now to see in the dark.

He had to eat now. It was scary, and disgusting at first, but now he more or less got used to it, and some of it was good, even if the people around him tried to make him eat more ‘healthier’ foods.

His wounds were healing slower. Stephanie, Barbara, Tim and the others were worried for him, that he will do something rush. They said he couldn’t be reckless anymore, without his healing. If he will, he may die. For good this time. Dick wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

What upset him the most was that he wasn’t as strong, and got tired easily. He needed rest now, almost every night.

And there lied the problem. He needed to sleep, but he couldn’t. He was too afraid to.

Closing eyes and drifting off meant nightmares, and Dick realised he was not a fan of those.

There was pain in every of them. Sometimes his own, sometimes the pain he inflicted on the others. Each one making him wake up with his now beating heart in his throat.

Sometimes, there also were bright colours and lights. Dick wondered if those were his memories before he got turned. No happy memories were coming back. Only these vague, gruesome ones that always ended in the ocean of red, so he preferred not to think about it too much.

He burrowed deeper in his blanket nest, shuffling in the soft clothes with bright pictures of stars of all colours.

He didn’t need to sleep or eat, so he didn’t do it before, but now he had no choice.

But he didn’t want nightmares, so he stayed tired and dizzy.

He felt weak. Broken. Even more so than before. Before, he at least was useful. Now he just was a broken mirror that, once put back together, could no longer show the image that was supposed to be reflected in it.

“Dick?”

He didn’t move. A small weight settled on the bed next to him.

Dick knew that weight by heart now. And even if he didn’t, only Tim would call to him, sit with him, yet not touch him or disturb, until Dick would reach out first. Would quietly go away, if Dick so needed.

Tim tried very hard. To make him “look at things from a deferent angle”. To make him feel better.

Tim would talk to him. Would bring heated blankets to him. Would cheer him to take a bath with one of the nice-smelling things Barbara have brought and the sparkly ones Stephanie did (the ones Pamela and Ivy got were always confiscated either by Bruce or Alfred).

With Tim always being near and how often Jason called Dick the bird, Jason started calling them Big Bird and Baby Bird, and the others soon followed suit, also proclaiming Jason to be Little Wing, since ‘middle bird didn’t sound cool enough’.

Dick wasn’t sure if he deserved any of that, but was shamefully glad to have his flock of birds and bats.

“I wanted to show you something. Can you come with me?” Tim’s gentle voice rose him from his thoughts.

Dick hummed. “Okay, Baby Bird.”

With Dick draped in a quilt and tugged by Tim, they went out the room and down the stairs.

There were people in the main hall. Bruce and other man. That man looked like the  last robot they had thought, but Dick was no longer scared of him. He knew now that the man’s name was Clark, and that he wasn’t scary, even if he was powerful. Much like the lady with a lasso that Jason become to like really much.

Clark and Bruce didn’t notice them. They were talking. Loudly.

“You don’t have to do that!” fumed Clark, clearly distressed and… annoyed?

“Brucie Wayne can’t hide forever, and I need my cover. I must visit social events.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to go and do unnecessary things. You barely recovered!”

“I wasn’t doing anything like that!”

 “I saw you crashing into a champagne bath last gala!” screeched Clark.

“My performances are great distraction. Nobody can believe Batman would do that!”

“I can believe that, and I still can’t watch that!”

“Then you shouldn’t have come!”

“And leave you to get stolen again?! No way!”

“Clark, it was one time.”

“More than enough times for me!”

They were loud, but Tim seemed unbothered, actually snickering as they walked around the men that waved them hello, but didn’t have time to start talking to them and bombarding Dick with weird questions as Tim dragged them quickly away.

As they were walking away, Dick’s still too keen ears heard the now quieter conversation.

“God, the house is so full now,” said Bruce. “I have to get used to keeping in mind that there are almost always children here somewhere, and probably somewhere close.”

“It’s nice for your gloomy character to have people around you once in a while.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“The girls seem to stay here often enough now. Do you plan to adopt them as well?”

Bruce sighed. “They do have their parents, but they are busy, and I'm basically a day care now anyway, what's going to be wrong with another extra kid or two.”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own, Bruce. You can always ask the league to help.”

“Any of you is willing to be volunteering for a position of a babysitter? Because that's what I desperately need, really.”

“How about Alfred?”

“He’s doing the best he can while politely harassing the temporarily workers that still occasionally come here to finish the renovations both for getting rid of what my imposter did to the place and for making a more children-friendly environment for the five kids that run around the place.”

Clark gave out a hearty laugh. “You are right, you do sound like a day care.”

The doors closed as they entered a room, and Dick couldn’t hear the heroes anymore.

But now he heard someone else.

“Where's that fucking, PIGEON,” yelled Jason.

“He's Robin,” said a familiar voice.

“I DONT CARE.”

Dick smiled brightly as he saw his old friends.

“Barbara! Stephanie!”

“Dickie!”

Dick got his face full of giggling Stephanie.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Leave him go, you menace.”

Stephanie showed him a gesture, and Barbara hissed at her angrily, “Don’t show it here, Alfred can see through the walls, I swear!”.

“I'm helping! Physical contact is good for reconnecting with emotions!” huffed Steph, holding Dick tighter and taking him deeper in to the big room that he hasn’t been to after it was redecorated.

It was almost dark, the broad space illuminated only by stray party lights and glow of the TV. There were all sorts of sweets on the carpet that had a lot of pillows, with Babs and Jason lying on, Tim joining them as he flopped on his back.

“Look up, Dickie,” said Steph as she physically raised his head to the ceiling.

Dick crinkled his forehead. “What’s that?..”

It looked like a big grey ball.

“Surprise!”

“Thank you?..”

Steph laughed. “Good one. Close your eyes for a bit!”

Dick did as he was told. Something clicked, and some more light appeared, accompanied by a shy whirling sound.

“Meet the greatest invention ever, the disco ball! Open your eyes!”

When Dick looked, he froze in place, mesmerised.

The ball on the ceiling was made of dozens of broken glass shards that shone brightly and sparkled, reflecting coloured lights pointed at them. Broken pieces, reflecting the light of the others, became wonderful, concentrated happiness.

“See! I told you he would like it! Dickie has good taste with shiny things!”

“I don’t know, Steph, Big Bird looks broken to me. Good thing I thought about the movies as the plan B.”

“I'm not broken, I'm a disco ball!” here declared Dick, loud and proud, as he looked at his flock.

Jason dropped his jaw, speechless.

Steph looked very smug.

Barbara and Tim were laughing.

Dick smiled. He loved his flock.

Chapter Text

Time is an unstoppable thing.

Dick learns to do things for fun. Things that have no purpose but to make oneself happy. One of these things is a cartwheel and a back flip.

After he learns that one, he starts climbing everything, which leads to Tim generating questionable ideas to get Dick down, which for some reason drags Dick into his and Steph’s prank war, which leads to Tim and Dick having regular fake fights and mischievous break ins (first in each other’s rooms, and then to each other’s houses).

In bits and pieces, his memory comes back. When he catches falling Babs and unlocks a memory of his parents’ death, it’s brutal, but with his family’s support they manage.

Jason goes to college. But he comes home every holiday. One of these days he makes Tim build a snowman, but to spite his adopted brother, Tim builds and ice fortress instead. Steph and Jason burry him under Bab’s snowman. Babs makes them each build and apologetic snowman back.

Babs get better. She and Stephanie join the Justice League. They build a new Clocktower which now hosts a bunch of other heroes too (which also include Dick at a later time).

 Ivy and Pam leave Gotham, but send them letters with suspicious stains, photos and undying pot flowers for their birthdays (Bruce is concerned how do they know the dates and where exactly to find them each time).

Not everything is perfect, of course.

Sometimes things get hard. It’s not easy to be a hero, and all of them, aside from teacher Jason, do end up being heroes, despite Bruce’s protest (after enough times being called a hypocrite, he stops and starts to help).

When in those times Tim gets sad, Dick will always drag Tim to bath. Tim is confused. He has forgotten that once he did the same thing for Dick to keep him less that and warm.

Joker is alive. They though failsafe has killed him.

And he did.

It's just the Joker didn't stay dead.

This was the main reason why Bruce had to go back on the streets even after he had decided to get be a remote support only after life has thrown a pile of tiny menaces in his face.

Him being on the field was the reason why the rest of his family followed his steps. Tim wanted to help, so he started sneaking to the cave and solving cases. After he ran out to help Bruce in trouble and neither he, nor Bruce came back, Dick followed them both, got them out, and then proceeded to declare that from now on he will patrol with Batman. Then was established the second main rule – no patrol alone (the first rule was Alfred’s, and it said that whoever didn’t come home after the night out, would be left without the Sunday pancakes).

Time flows and takes things away with it. Both good and bad.

As talon becomes human, dull gold of his eyes turns back bright. It may be bad for the contact lenses to hide, but human Dick likes bright things, and he likes that brightness.