Archive of Our Own

Dick woke with a ball of anxiety pulsating through his chest, only remembering flashes of some indiscernible dream. A wave of confusion hit him; this wasn’t his apartment…

Sorting through his memories, he felt a rush of nausea at the recollection of events. Drugged, kidnapped, forced to confront his family’s feelings about him. He hadn’t bothered to return home last night, no one had, they’d just all fallen asleep in their old rooms. Staring at the pitch-black ceiling, he considered his options. He could try and sleep, and probably fail, if his sweaty palms were any indication. Deciding against it, he stretched his limbs and slowly rose up, checking the clock next to his bed. 5:04. Sighing in relief he kicked his legs over the side of the bed, cementing his decision to leave before everyone woke.

Talking things out with the others was high on his list of priorities, but now, he decided, was absolutely not the time. He needed time to sort things out and figure out what to say. It was funny, how everyone seemed to think he was the best at talking with them, he just put in the prep work beforehand. He silently swept through his room, pulling on an old threadbare shirt and holey jeans, and hopping in the connected bathroom to brush his teeth. He was out the door in less than two minutes, slinking down the hallway, navigating through memorized blueprints rather than sight.

Reaching the garage without incident, he found his leather jacket and helmet right where he left them. Glancing around, he noticed Jason’s cycle was missing. At least he wasn’t alone in his desire to leave before the chaos of last night’s events crashed down around them. But, he reasoned, this wasn’t really running. He’d run from plenty of problems before. This was just… regrouping. A tactical retreat. He’d be back once he got his head on straight and come up with something more personal than, ‘I’m sorry I made you feel that way’.

He hardly realized his phone had slipped into his fingers, unconsciously unlocking it as the garage door rose. The band of anxiety tightened in his chest as he straddled his bike but was slightly loosened as he heard his helmet automatically connect to his phone’s Bluetooth. The drive to Blüdhaven was long, he had friends, he had time. He needed to talk.

But talk to who was the question. Sure, some of them had siblings, but who would even know how to deal with this? No one ever kidnapped Donna’s family in a ploy to woo her over. Wally would tell him to talk things out, but how was he even supposed to try and have that conversation? Garth would be understanding, and Roy would be brutally honest. But none of that would help him piece together a plan of action. Humming nervously, he scrolled through his list of contacts, already aware of who he should really call. Taking a few deep breaths, his forefinger hovered over the icon. Steadying himself, he hit call, and drove out of the garage.

The phone rang twice before she picked up.

“Dick? Is everything okay?” Her voice was crisp and focused, he knew for a fact she’d just finished her morning jog.

“Hey, Clancy. I know you said I can call anytime, but if now’s not a good time I can schedule an appointment later, I just…” Trying to phrase his thoughts in a way that made sense was difficult, but bless Clancy, she nothing if not patient. “I need to figure some things out.”

No matter how many times they met, he hated vulnerability creeping into his voice, making it shake slightly as he spoke. This is her job. He reminded himself. She understands.

“No problem, I have a couple hours, where do you want to start?” Dick hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he let it out.

“Thanks Clancy.”

1. Cass
“Morning.” Barbara yawned over the intercom, quickly unlocking the door before him. He pushed through it, opting to climb the stairs up to the clocktower’s apartment rather than using the elevator. It was good warm up after all, even if it took longer, it gave him time to appreciate the view out of the carefully spaced windows. Birds hopped around on the windowsills, and flowers were blooming in some of the box planters along the way, watered by a sprinkler system he’d helped Barbara install years ago. Tiny urban green spaces, lush wildlife standing firm amidst the backdrop of a dreary city. It never failed to make him smile, especially because it was a project they’d all worked on together. Well, everyone who’d been around at the time.

Arriving at the top of the steps pulled Dick out of his musings. The door opened before he could touch the handle, Barbara waving him inside. He smiled as a greeting, and she shoved two protein drinks in his hands before turning and rolling off towards her office.

“Sorry I have to check on a few things, but Dick.” She turned, offering him a warm smile. “Have fun, and relax, she’ll love it.”

“Thanks.” He called in return, crossing the room and entering another hallway. He didn’t doubt the plan, Barbara had helped him come up with it after all, and no one knew Cass better. If it didn’t go well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, but if it did, hopefully he had a shot of strengthening their relationship. They hadn’t talked since that night, and at the very least, this could help put them on a path to figuring out where they stood with each other.

Cass poked her head out of the door, hearing his approach. She smiled shyly, awkwardly moving back and forth, trying to decide if she should come out or stay in her room. Dick offered out one of the drinks and she reluctantly headed into the hallway.

“Yep, I’m here for you. Get dressed in something comfy.” He instructed, swiping the drink back as she reached out for it. Or at least, he tried to, but the bottle had somehow already made itself into her hands.

“Why?” She asked, popping open the cap and taking a victorious swig. Her hair at the least was already brushed, tied back in a slick ponytail. He wondered if Barbara had gotten her up early in preparation, or if she was finally starting to get up before three pm (and hopefully cutting down on the twelve-plus-hours patrols).

“We’re going on an adventure.” He grinned as she frowned, her eyes searching him briefly. She returned the smile hesitantly, sensing no ill will, and handed him the half empty drink before running and sliding back into her room.

“Is this about last weekend?” She asked, almost knowingly. Dick hummed an affirmation.

“I was thinking we could do something fun together.” He replied, Cass bouncing out of her room completely prepared mere seconds later.

“Talking or what?” She asked, trailing along side him as they headed back through the kitchen.

“Some talking, some other stuff.” He replied noncommittally, he wasn’t really sure if she’d go for the idea. He made it down three stairs before hearing her clear her throat.

“I’m not going until you spill.” She stated from the top of the stairs. He turned to face her. No surprises for this morning then.

“There’s this thing called Zumba, I’ve got a friend who teaches a class nearby, I thought you’d be interested.” She gazed at him intently, an invitation to continue. “It’s like dance exercise, it’s good for agility, and it’s pretty fun.” She scrunched her nose slightly.

“But fun isn’t why we’re going?” She asked, the context of the offer wasn’t lost on her, but she began heading down the stairs either way.

“I’ve been thinking about the last time we talked.” He gazed out the windows, again enjoying the view as they climbed down.

“Are you mad at me?” Cass asked, her voice so soft he almost thought he imagined it.

“What? No, this isn’t a punishment or anything.” He assured. “It wasn’t your fault, and honestly, I’m kinda glad you let me know what was bothering you.” He gently placed a hand on her shoulder as they continued rhythmically padding down the stairs.

“Then why are we doing this?” She asked, similarly captivated by the view.

“So I can’t lie to you.” He dropped his hand to open the lower door and followed Cass to his car.

“How so?” She asked, strapping herself into the passenger seat.

“Well, my plan’s to do this with you every week.” He explained, sliding into the driver’s seat. “In the car we can talk about whatever you want, and when we dance, we can get used to each other’s movements, which will help with reading body language.” She nodded.

“Makes sense.” She grinned, playfully tapping his shoulder. “Good idea, thanks.” He nodded.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He asked, starting the car.

“What do you hate most about me?” She asked, blankly staring out the front window. Dick winced, he’d known the question was coming, it would be coming from all his siblings soon, and they’d likely start asking each other. He’d resolved to answer them honestly, in accordance with his therapist’s advice.

“I…” He paused for a moment, but recovered quickly, having written out and memorized his script. “Resent that we aren’t as close as we used to be.” Back in the days where they helped install flower boxes together. Ate dinner together with Babs and Tim. “I miss you. That’s also why I wanted to do this.” She looked at him curiously. “Things between us haven’t really been the same since Bruce took a trip through the timeline and it’s not your fault, or mine really, we just... fell out of touch.”

“Phones go two ways.” She replied. He began backing out of the driveway. “I could have called. You could have called.”

“I’m calling now.” He replied hesitantly. She smiled, brighter than the sun.

“And I’m picking up.”

Half an hour later, Dick was sure he made the right choice. They’d stretched, introduced themselves to the group (fake names of course), and in no time at all the music had started and the dancing commenced.

He didn’t know the song that was playing, but he could see the change that took place in Cass as she danced. It was like everything faded around her, she tuned the world out, only focusing on those around her and the instructor’s movements. He’d picked out a more advanced class, and was feeling the workout, but it was well worth the extra effort; a small smile rarely left Cass’s face, sometimes expanding into something greater.

She was so graceful, and careful, extremely precise with every twitch of her toes, or flick of her wrist. As if she were born to dance and only the weight of the world could slow her. And that’s really what it was, whenever her smile got too wide, her eyebrows would raise, and there’d be a flash of embarrassment, as if she were ashamed of enjoying herself. The smile would come crashing down, and he hated to see it go, so he’d quickly do something stupid to distract her into letting the cycle of joy and grace flow again.

He was acutely aware of how strongly Cass felt responsibility, a duty to everyone and everything around her, but this, here, he hoped she could escape for just a moment, in a twirl or a skip, leave the past at her feet, and find comfort in the rhythm of enjoying simple things.

2. Bruce
The drive up to the manor seemed to grow longer and longer every time Dick visited, as if Gotham itself were pulling it closer. It was odd, being able to see all the subtle (and not so subtle) changes the building had gone through. Destroyed and rebuilt after the quake, windows busted through, the garage had recently been replaced, and countless nicks and scratches coated the walls of well-loved rooms.

The residents of the manor, previous and current seemed to ebb and flow, coming as they please, and staying if they like. The only thing constant about the place was Alfred’s disapproving look as he tracked mud into the living room, which abated once he doubled back to leave his shoes at the door.

“How are we today, Master Richard?” Alfred rounded the corner after him, wiping up some of the mud as he went. Dick cringed at his forgetfulness, this was supposed to be a quick visit, just an exchange of evidence. But it was the first time he’d talked to Bruce since… well.

“Fine Alfie, we’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?” They could talk more then. Alfred picked up on his signal, edging back towards the kitchen.

“Indeed, Master Bruce is in his study, I think he should like to speak with you before you take your leave.” Dick brushed past Alfred into the hallway, giving him a rueful smile as he went, which was returned with a sympathetic gaze. Dutifully, he crept down the hall, avoiding the creaky floorboards out of habit, and knocked on Bruce’s study.

“Come in.” Bruce rumbled from behind the door. Dick took a deep breath before taking the brass handle in his hand, swiftly opening the door.

“Dick.” Bruce acknowledged, closing his laptop and pointing to a shelf. “Evidence is in there.”

Dick deftly stepped around the coffee table and retrieved what he needed, moving back towards the door, only hesitating slightly when he reached it. If Bruce wasn’t ready to talk, he wasn’t going to push things, but-

“Wait.” Dick turned, Bruce was standing, staring at him as if willing something to happen.

“What’s up?” He leveled, meeting Bruce’s gaze. The air between them was stagnant, tension quickly thickening. Every time he saw Bruce, he had to ask himself, how had it ended up like this?

Bruce cleared his throat. “You requested, that we discuss Damian.” Dick’s heart sank a little bit, was that the only reason Bruce wanted to talk to him?

“Uh, yeah. He uh, said some stuff about wanting to visit more.” It wasn’t the full truth, and Bruce knew it. Or at least, Dick felt like swiss cheese the way Bruce looked at him. The man’s face morphed into a frown.

“You could visit more. You have a stalker; it’s safer if you stay here.” Dick was rusty on his Bruce-speak, but he was pretty sure that translated to ‘I miss you’. Which would be touching if that’s what he actually meant.

“We’ll probably catch the stalker by the end of the week, and I visit.” Dick defended, he went to Sunday family diners and stopped by during the week as needed. Sighing, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t.” Bruce’s brow furrowed as he carefully chose his next words. Dick would have been offended, but over the years he’d become accustomed to Bruce overthinking conversations. “You could stay overnight, like Cassandra does, on the weekends.”

That sealed it, Bruce did miss him. Dick smiled, deciding to cut a deal. “How about, if I patrol in Gotham, I’ll stay here overnight, and if Damian patrols in Blüdhaven he’ll stay with me overnight.” He’d have to work Damian into their roster, and himself more into the Gotham one, but it seemed fair enough.

“Deal.” The corners of Bruce’s mouth twitched upwards. He settled back into his seat, leaning back as if the conversation had exhausted him. Knowing Bruce, it probably had.

“Anything else, old man?” He asked teasingly as Bruce adjusted his reading glasses.

“Hrnn.” Bruce muttered, grimacing at the remark. He looked up at Dick, scanning him from head to toe.

“Hey, my eyes are up here.” He joked. Bruce gave him a pained expression in return, but it was all in fun, his joke had lightened the mood. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“How are you?” Bruce asked wearily. Dick leaned back against the coffee table.

“Fine.” Bruce’s nostrils flared, disbelief apparent. “Seriously, I talked with Clancy, nothing to worry about.” Bruce nodded approvingly (as he should, the Wayne foundation paid for her doctorate after all).

“Did you…” Bruce trailed off, then intensely stared him directly in the eyes. “Did you want to talk about what happened?” Dick shrugged noncommittally, offering Bruce the out if he wanted to take it. But the man remained silent until Dick spoke again.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” He asked. Bruce winced, opening his mouth and closing it before speaking.

“Are you angry with me?” The lines on the man’s face seemed to deepen as he said it, Dick was acutely aware of every grey hair on his head. Yet even still, as he asked the question, he seemed childish.

“No.” Bruce cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly. “Not right now.” Dick added. Bruce sighed.

“But you’ve been angry with me. I want to know why.” He said it too questioningly to be a demand. Dick shrugged, edging closer to the door. “Dick, please, I can’t fix things if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” Old anger stirred in the pit of his stomach.

Dick didn’t usually hold grudges, didn’t see the point in them. But for the life of him, he’d never been able to forgive Bruce, not that Bruce had ever asked. They didn’t talk about it, as an unspoken rule, made possible by the fact that none of the family had been around at the time, well, aside from Alfred, but he unwillingly tolerated the act.

“Do you really want me to say it?” Ice crept into his voice, as guilt flooded into his stomach. He should have buried this hatchet years ago, but try as he might, it never slipped from his fingers. Bruce nodded stonily, face set in determination.

“You never apologized.” Dick admitted, inching his way towards the door once more.

“For?” Bruce led after a pause.

“You kicked me out!” Dick’s yell was half strangled. Bruce looked stricken. “More than once. You gave away my mantle, blamed me for Jason, you don’t remember the year and a half we didn’t talk?” Heat was rising to his face, he forced himself to stay angry, because if he was angry at least he wouldn’t cry. “You pretend like it never happened, but newsflash, when you got a new son, I didn’t get a new father!” He shouldn’t be bringing this up, he shouldn’t be- “Sometimes I only think you adopted me so I could take care of Tim and Cass if anything happened, and even then, I completely failed at that after you died, so what was even the point?” Dick laughed. “I don’t even know why you keep me around half the time. You want me to visit, but you’ll just stay in the cave the whole time.”

Bruce was noticeably paler, silence echoing between them as neither made a move. The anger flooding through his veins turned quickly to guilt.

“I’m sorry, I love you, and I know you love me, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m-” Dick started, scrambling for the door handle, his voice audibly shaking.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce stood, nearly tripping over his desk in his haste to cross the room.

“No, it was a long time ago, I’m over it and-”

“It doesn’t matter, I never apologized.” Bruce clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Do you?” He hesitated. “Want a hug?” Dick bit his lip and nodded, and for the second time this week was swept into Bruce’s strong grip. “I’m sorry.” Bruce whispered again. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it, I was wrong, we have time, we can talk now.” Dick’s eyes were prickling, he swallowed, not wanting to cry in front of Bruce again. “We can fix this.”

3. Duke
After a heartfelt discussion with Bruce, that surprisingly ended with them agreeing to schedule time with Clancy together, Dick was finally heading out of the manor. Unfortunately, he was leaving a lot later than he’d originally anticipated. On the bright side, he’d needed that, for years, but on the downside, people were starting to trickle in. But on the other hand, he did need to talk with Damian (who had gone directly to his room without noticing him) and with-

A slight breeze wafted through the otherwise still air.

“Duke, I know you’re there.” A pearly white smile appeared before him as he spoke, floating in midair. Dick grinned back as Duke continued his show, his wide eyes appearing, then his head, and lastly, his body. “You’re the most extra person I’ve ever met.” Duke’s grin widened at the remark.

“Right back at you.” He returned without hesitation.

“My reputation proceeds me.” Dick replied melodramatically, quickly stealing a glance at the chandelier. He’d crashed the one at the old manor enough times that Bruce and Alfred stopped replacing them for a few years, and he dented the current one after losing bet to Tim.

“Are you here for patrol?” There was something uncertain in the way Duke asked the question. Shaking his head slowly, he was struck by an idea.

“Let’s get out of here, just you and me.” Duke hesitated at the offer shifting his weight side to side. Dick placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No, before you ask, I’m not mad, I can admit when I’ve made a mistake. This is me trying to make good on making amends.” A smile flickered across Duke’s face.

“Won’t Damian be pissed you spent the whole night with me?” He pointed out.

“What Damian doesn’t know won’t kill him. In this case at least.” Dick joked. Damian wouldn’t mind, as long as things went according to plan, they’d be spending a lot more time together soon.

They discussed plans for the new charity all along the drive to Blüdhaven, Duke writing out a checklist of changes and tweaks to the program as they worked out some of the finer details. As of now, Dick was trying to convince him to try pizza from-

“-Blüdhaven’s best pizza parlor. Duke, you seriously gotta take my word for the place. I haven’t had anything better since…” Dick faltered but recovered quickly. “Gerlando’s closed.”

“Oh, what happened to it?” Duke asked curiously, gazing out the window at the brightly lit street.

“It was on the wrong side of the city.” Dick replied evenly. Duke whipped around in his seat.

“Oh sorry dude, I forgot, I mean, I-” He babbled.

“Don’t sweat it.” Dick smiled wryly, thought for a moment, and grinned for real. “Has anyone told you about the best part of that situation?” Duke shook his head. “Jason thought I was dead and was still whacked up in the head. So guess what he did?”

“Ran around as Nightwing?” Duke guessed.

“Okay, someone told you.” Dick accused.

“No, he’s just predictable. When Bruce died I heard he ran around in the cowl.” Dick snorted.

“Oh, that was a time too.” He paused, debating whether or not to embarrass Jason further. Tentacles. He shuddered inwardly, thinking better of it. Jason might actually kill him if he revealed that.

“See this is what I’ve been trying to tell you guys.” Duke continued as they pulled into the parking lot. “You’re all so boring, like Tim literally couldn’t come up with a better codename than ‘Red Robin’? Not to mention, the color scheme? All of you literally look same. Like, really?”

“I wear blue.” Dick defended.

“Yeah, like an inch of it, at least my costume’s almost completely a different color.” Duke teased.

“Yeah, the same color of my first cape. Copycat.” Dick replied, opening the door and effectively ending the ‘hero’ part of the conversation.

“Hmm.” Duke looked at the little pizzeria then back at Dick. “You all wear leather jackets and ride motorcycles, and are all the most angsty people in the room.” Dick laughed so hard he could feel tears creeping into his eyes.

“You literally *wheeze* rode a motorcycle *snort* home today wearing a leather jacket.” He paused to catch his breath. “And you went through an angsty phase like a month ago. Face it you’re fit the mold to a T.” Duke lightly punched him in the shoulder.

“At least I don’t have blue eyes.” He remarked. Well, Dick couldn’t argue with that.

An empty pizza box sat abandoned on the table behind them, their light banter finally exhausted allowing silence to permeate the living room of Dick’s apartment. Glancing around the room, Dick felt a familiar weight settle between the two of them, and by the time Duke spoke up, he was feeling a sense of déjà vu, having had this conversation twice before.

“I’ve been thinking.” Duke started, his carefree attitude gone, replaced with a serious demeanor. Dick nodded, humming in acknowledgement. “About last week. Are you like,” Duke’s voice seemed smaller, “mad at me?” Dick relaxed, allowing a gentle smile to spread across his face.

“Nope.” He paused for a moment. His mistakes with Duke had been big, but straightforward, unlike some of the others, it wasn’t a guessing game. If he knew the problem, he could fix it, or well, do his best to patch things back up. “Are you mad at me?”

“Nah. I know there was some uh, wacky timeline stuff… I mean, I know you weren’t exactly yourself.” Speedsters messing with the timeline, messing up everyone’s personalities. “But I’ve just been thinking.” Duke’s shoulders sunk as he spoke.

“About?” Dick prodded, whatever it was, it was better to deal with it now, not in the middle of when one of them was having some existential or identity crisis.

“If we’d been swapped, what would you have said?” It came out incredibly curious. An innocent question. Dick loved bantering with Duke, it reminded him of simpler times, but it could also make him forget how much younger his brother was.

“Would you believe me if I said, you coming into the family, more than anyone else, made me feel like I was being replaced?” Duke’s eyes widened ever so slightly, partially confused, but with a bit of awe. And then his face morphed into a frown.

“You’re not being serious, we don’t even look the-”

“Not like that. Well, when Jason showed up with blue eyes and black hair, I was a bit offended, but that’s not what I mean.” He thought back to what he’d written out with Clancy. “You’re funny, charming, a leader. You remind me of my younger self, but like better.” Duke raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “And you get on with everyone so well. Bruce is more relaxed when you’re around, you know? So are Cass and Damian. Jason and Tim too.”

“No offense, but that makes no sense. They’d pick you over me any day.” The corners of Duke’s lips tugged at a frown.

“You’d be surprised, Cass would probably pick you. Jason too, he thinks I’m insufferable.” He paused, thinking for a minute. “But that’s not really the point. You came into a family when-”

“Speedsters were messing with the timeline and everyone was pissed that you didn’t actually die.” Duke frowned in earnest. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“Duke, don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. It was a… confusing situation.” Perhaps the understatement of the year. “Getting unmasked, going undercover, lying to everyone, it sucked. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it was even me that did all that, with the conflicting memories and all. But some of the feelings are still there, and I’m trying to let them go.” Speedsters. Timeline. Annoying. “But honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I mean we got you out of it after all.”

Duke nodded, a small smile making its way back on his face. “Thanks.”

4. Tim
Dick woke suddenly, bolting upright and gasping for breath, cold sweat dripping down his face, tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t breathe, his chest too constricting, confused memories mixing and swirling with his dream, heart was racing, stomach churning, and he had no idea where he was or what was happening. He curled instinctively into a ball, adding pressure against his chest, and began a breathing exercise. Tim was fine. He reminded himself of the facts, his mind clearing out of the initial haze of confusion.

He still felt awful, but as he finished, he at least understood the situation. He was sleeping on Tim’s couch, they’d patrolled together last night, planned on spending the day together. The clock on the cable box read 8:00, he’d slept for maybe 3 hours, that was… better than some nights. His head protested, continuing to pound, but he felt the lingering effects of adrenaline pushing him to act. And so he acted, swinging his legs of the couch, standing, and pacing around the darkened living room.

Get dressed, brush your teeth, comb your hair, open the curtains. He moved through the tasks robotically, the dream still fresh in his mind. Tim was falling, splattering on the ground, distorting and cracking just like his parents. But it hadn’t happened that way, Tim was fine, he’d caught him, he hadn’t been helplessly standing on a platform, he wasn’t eight anymore. He was an adult, he could do things now he couldn’t do before. He wasn’t weak, he had training, equipment, experience. But, as his mind liked to remind him, none of that had helped Tim. Sure, he was fine physically, but physically wasn’t the problem. “Your my brother, Dick. You’ll always be there for me.”

But if he hadn’t been there…

Dick held his head in his hands at the kitchen table, trying not to have some sort of breakdown over this… again. He could have one later, at his apartment, right now he was at Tim’s house, and Tim needed him to be there for him, Tim was his little brother, and Tim could absolutely not see him like this. He was being ridiculous, this happened months ago, he talked through it in therapy. Tim needed someone to depend on, to call without worrying about being judged, to talk to if things ever got that bad again, and that had to be him… And it couldn’t be like that if Tim walked in on him like this.

Breakfast, he could make breakfast, he decided. Maybe if he ate, he’d feel better, and he could make enough for Tim to have leftovers. Banana bread, that was fun to make (it took a long time too). And he could make pancakes, maybe a fruit salad, and if he got done early, cook something for dinner. The chair rattled as he abruptly stood, pushing himself away from the table, and hastily striding towards the fridge. He took a mental inventory, it wasn’t empty, but he’d already needed bananas, and while he got them, he may as well stock it. He could sneak in health foods, get Tim to eat less frozen meals. Those had too much sodium anyways. Quinoa, avocados, berries, yeah those sounded better than Lean Cuisine.

He flew through the pantries, dismayed by the abundance of spices gathering on the shelves. He’d bought them the first time he’d stocked Tim’s kitchen, and he’d barely used any of them. Tim really needed to learn how to actually cook, this was sad, he’d left recipes and everything. Maybe he could buy a cookbook on the way back from the grocery store.

He eyed the clock, it was nearly nine. Tim would probably be up in the next three hours or so, that gave him enough time. Throwing on his shoes, he googled the nearest Aldi’s, and ran out the door.

Dick was reaching for a carton of ice cream when the world decided to freeze, ironically enough. And then he was waking up again, confused and disoriented, feeling a sense of déjà vu. There was a steady beeping in his ear, and it smelled like disinfectant, and he could have sworn he was just standing. And why did his head feel like stuffing? He opened his eyes.

“This isn’t Aldi’s.” He remarked, scanning his surroundings. Light trickled in from a window on his right, the walls were plain white, a television was sitting across from him, and an open door on his left. The beeping picked up.

“No shit.” Tim apparently, was also on his left. He looked displeased to say the least. “How are you?”

Dick paused a moment to process everything. Tim was in civilian attire, there was a bustle outside the door, there was an IV in his left arm, which would mean… hospital??? Why did he need a- Oh.

His right arm was sticking out slightly, stuck in a cast from his shoulder to his wrist, which continued around his torso. Damn. On the bright side, he couldn’t feel anything, so he was probably on some strong pain medications. On the downside he had no idea what the fuck was going on.

“You don’t remember anything after Aldi’s?” Tim prompted, Dick looked at him, his confusion must have been palpable as Tim continued. “You asked what the fuck was going on.” Whoops. “What do you remember?”

“I wanted ice cream.” He’d just grabbed a box for Tim and set in the cart, he wanted one for himself. Tim sighed, looking pained. It was kind of funny.

“Dick stop laughing, it’s not funny.” Dick just laughed a bit harder, it was funny. Tim was just lame. “I’m not lame. Jesus Christ, how much did she put you on?” Tim left the room muttering, leaving Dick alone, laughing his head off.

A while later, Dick realized that Tim had come back and closed the door, he was in a half body cast in the hospital, and he had no idea what the fuck was going on. His head didn’t quite feel like fluff anymore and his arm was dully throbbing. The TV was playing some cartoon that Damian liked, but Damian wasn’t here, which meant…

“You like Mao Mao?” He asked and Tim hummed an affirmation.

“Are you lucid yet?” Tim turned and began checking his pupils with a flashlight.

“…I think?” He was like 90% sure. “Shouldn’t a nurse be doing that?” He tried not to flinch at the bright light.

“Leslie already checked you out and said a concussion wasn’t likely, but it doesn’t hurt to double check. Follow my finger.” He waved it around in a circle, seeming pleased with the results.

“Leslie was here?” This wasn’t her clinic, at least not that he could tell.

“This is the new wing Bruce bought a month ago. At least he’s using what he paid for.” Tim shrugged. He began removing the IV.

“Okay, what’s going on?” He just wanted to make banana bread. This was ridiculous.

“You decided it was a good idea to go shopping by yourself while you have a stalker on the loose, on a Tuesday morning, right when the store opened, so like two people were around.” Irritation bled into Tim’s voice.

“I mean I knew that. Wait, stalker?” Tim flipped around as he finished, and gave him an unamused glare.

“Yeah, she gassed the store, ran out with you, and because it was a half-cracked plot, got caught.” Tim punched a few buttons into the TV remote. He flipped between a few news channels before finding what he was looking for.

“-and on today’s NewsHour one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons was kidnapped at a local grocery store, ending in a deadly high-speed chase. Police officers caught on camera-” On screen, a dashcam showed a car careening down the highway. “-ending in disaster-” The car spun out of control, crashing off the road. “-shocking footage of the Signal rescuing-” something flew through the windshield, the screen paused and a red circle highlighted the dark blob. “-the Wayne heir is lucky to be alive after being thrown from the car, his brother Timothy Drake-Wayne has reported him in stable condition-” The screen went black. Dick pursed his lips, his arm throbbing in time to the heart monitor.

Tim was still staring at the blank television screen, Dick trying to process the fuck that was. Flung from a car? Lucky to be alive? He just wanted bananas? And ice cream? Speaking of which.

“What happened to my groceries?” He tried for humor, but he also spent like an hour shopping and if he didn’t get any fucking ice cream after this shit it was about to be everyone’s problem. Tim stared at him. Dick stared back, and upon remembering he was in a hospital bed, pressed the button to raise it, staring Tim in the eye. He got halfway to looking Tim in the eye before the pain in his shoulder stopped him for a moment. Concern flicked behind Tim’s eyes, softening his features. He slipped around to the other side of the bed and gently finished helping him sit up, stabilizing his right side.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Tim asked. “You dislocated your shoulder, your arm’s broken in three places, and you snapped your collarbone. You were in surgery for over an hour. Other than that, you were lucky, just cuts and bruises.” Dick winced; patrols were probably a no for at least a couple months, and he was in for an earful from Bruce. “It’s a miracle you don’t have another concussion.”

“I’m fine.” He swung his legs over the bed, ignoring a wave of dizziness. Tim passed him a pill and some water. Pills. He grimaced and quickly swallowed it. Best not to dwell on the past. He tried tossing the cup out and missed by a mile. Tim frowned again, before scurrying over to place it the right bin. Dick took the opportunity to try standing on his own, annoyed by the weight throwing his balance. Tim huffed as he wobbled, running back pulling over a wheelchair.

“Yeah, no. Sit.” He commanded. Dick rolled his eyes, but complied, a wheelchair was overkill. “So,” Tim began, steering him towards the exit, “why were you at Aldi’s?”

“I wanted to make banana bread.” He replied truthfully. “You didn’t have bananas.” Tim stepped around him and pushed the door open, popping down the kickstand to prop it. He paused to give him another look.

“At nine am?” Tim pressed disapprovingly. “You were supposed to be sleeping.” He muttered. His fists were clenched. Jawline was tight. Unfortunately, he stepped behind the wheelchair again, out of Dick’s line of sight. Reading body language was a no-go, but Tim was understandably tense.

“I woke up early.” He commented.

“You don’t say.” Tim mused. He was quiet as they passed through the hall together towards a back exit. “When’s the last time you slept for more than three hours at my apartment?” Dick bit his lip. Tim had noticed. Or well, put together the dots. “Last time you stayed I woke up to muffins.” Dick stared at the tiles on the floor. “The time before that there were pancakes.” Two white tiles, one blue. “The fridge fully stocked every time. ‘I ordered them online and had them delivered.’ I have perimeter sensors.” Two white, one green. “Always Aldi’s brand, you’re predictable you know?” Tim was smart, had he really been that easy to read? “I was hoping you’d stop, or tell me why, or I don’t know something?”

The end of the hallway was dark, and Tim stepped around to open the exit. Light poured in, shrouding Tim’s silhouette like a halo. His eyes were sad, almost disappointed, waiting until their eyes met to speak. “I know what you hate most about me.” He paused, silently slipping back out of view. “It’s why you’re visiting everyone, to put us all back on equal footing. You can say it.” The wheelchair bumped over the threshold, sending a jolt of pain through him. “I’ll absolve you. I’ve already forgiven you.”

He could say it if something wasn’t stuck in his throat. It was as if the breeze had stolen away his words, or maybe if he spoke he’d break a dam and was afraid of the flood. Tim pushed him across the parking lot, eerily silent, giving him time to process. Helped him into the car silently pleading for him to say something. Dick tried to relax as a familiar anxiety settled in his chest, watching Tim roll the chair back into the building. He leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes and clasping his free hand over them.

He was supposed to be the older brother. He promised himself, there could never be another situation like Jason’s. Years ago, in front of an empty grave, he swore to himself, it wouldn’t happen again. Then he’d retired Danny from the Titans. And Danny had died. And he swore again. And then Tim came along. And he couldn’t do what he did with Danny so he did everything perfect. Trained him the best he could, called, picked up the phone, spent time with him, took him train surfing, anything, everything he could think of.

Before he knew it, warmth had spread to his face, and his hand was wet, his eyes were leaking, and he needed to get ahold of himself before Tim got back. Another failure. He’d failed so many times, kept failing Tim and-

Tim opened the door, kindly ignoring the mess that was him. Tim just started driving and kept waiting, tense, but not angry, just tired and sad. The ride was painful, his shoulder and arm throbbed angrily at any little bump (though Tim was doing his best not to hit them, and Dick was painfully aware of how avoiding roads with potholes was slowing them down). His head pounded in time to his pulse. He focused on his breathing, because that at least, he could control.

Before long, the car slowed to a stop in front of Tim’s apartment and Tim turned to face him, expectantly. He unclenched his jaw.

“I failed you.” He admitted. Tim shook his head, looking at him kindly.

“You didn’t.” Lies.

“You fell.” It hardly came out as more than a whisper. His own words replayed in his head, “There’s someone I want you to talk to, a therapist in Metropolis…” He’d seen it coming, he read the signs, and he’d let Tim leave the conversation anyways. Trusted him to take care of himself and… “you’ve been handling me with baby gloves”. He couldn’t afford not to, not again, not after-

“You caught me, I’m fine.” Tim repeated, tapping his arm, pulling him out of his memories. Dick nearly screamed out of frustration, anxiety swirling in his chest.

“You almost die-” Tim cut him off.

“You almost died going to the grocery store about four hours ago.” He frowned. “Our lives are dangerous, you can’t get like this every time-”

“You almost killed yourself because I took Robin away!” He blurted out; he could feel his stomach clenching painfully at the admission. Tim paled slightly. Dick broke eye contact, turning around to face his window. “I’m sorry, I-I…” He sucked in a deep breath.

“I didn’t try to kill myself. Ra’s is the one who threw me out the window.” Tim reasoned. It felt like more than the cast constricting his chest at this point.

“You went after Ra’s al Ghul by yourself, that’s suicide via villain.” He hated pointing it out, but it was true. “And I didn’t stop you.” He’d let Tim go, not knowing when he’d see him next, trusting him to have a plan. Blindly hoping instead of facing reality. Tim swallowed next to him.

“I’m not mad at you for that, I asked you to trust me and you did.” Dick looked back at Tim grimly. “I just wish you could trust me again. Or at least feel safe enough to sleep at my place.”

“I do feel safe.” He wasn’t the one who nearly let Ra’s-

“Then why were you at Aldi’s this morning? Every morning?” Tim challenged.

“I didn’t sleep well.” Tim didn’t need to know how much he still-

“Why didn’t you sleep well?” Tim pressed.

“Sometimes it’s hard to sleep.” He evaded the question. Tim frowned.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me? You can trust me, I’m not going to get mad about it, and we both know that I already figured it out a long time ago.” Dick clenched his jaw again in response. “Just. Say. It. Seriously Dick, we can’t work things out if you aren’t honest about what’s bothering you.” Heat rose to his face. “Just spit it out already-”

“I have nightmares, okay!?” Dick finally spat, his temper getting the better of him momentarily, before immediately deflating at Tim’s shocked face.

“About?” Tim prompted, recovering quickly. Dick just laughed. What didn’t he have nightmares about at this point? He didn’t think Tim’s frown could deepen, but somehow, he managed. “Are you okay?” Dick finished laughing, trying to calm his fraying nerves.

“Most of the time.” Which was true. He was usually fine. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Would it make you feel better if I told you, I already talked about it with my therapist?”

“You have a therapist?” Dick blinked.

“You didn’t know?” He didn’t advertise it, but his family was full of literal detectives. He just assumed they-

“A therapist in Metropolis.” Tim was shaking his head. He got out of the car. “I’m such a dumbass, it was so obvious, of course you-” he slammed the door, and walked around the car, muttering to himself the entire way around. He opened Dick’s door. An idea popped into his head.

“You could go with me.” He swiveled to the right, and Tim grabbed his good arm, helping him down to the ground. “Clancy does family therapy too.” Tim groaned, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Your old landlord is your therapist in Metropolis, how did I miss that-”

“We could go weekly, have ice cream after, from Aldi’s, and-”

“Oh, you don’t have to sell me, of course I’m going, who else is going to drive you around?” Dick stopped in his tracks, making it just inside the kitchen.

“Wait, what do you mean drive me around, I’m going home tomorrow.” Tim snickered, carefully dragging him into a chair.

“That’s what you think.” There was a standing family rule. “You were under my watch, sleeping in my house, which means you’re my responsibility.” Dick sputtered.

“I’m at least five years older than you!” He was pretty sure that was true, Tim’s age was kind of ambiguous with all the timeline changes, and now he was maybe twenty? But the memories of the Red Robin days seemed like months ago? So maybe Tim was eighteen again? Or his memories were still jumbled and fucked. Either way, Tim looked like he was doing mental calculus to figure it out.

“I’d have to check our birth certificates.” He admitted. Dick snorted.

“Then I can go home tomorrow.” He asserted. Tim laughed, and snaked around the back of his chair.

“Oh, no, you used that on me way too much, it’s only fair you get a taste of your own medicine. Don’t even try to argue until you can sit up by yourself. Cass is bringing your bag up tomorrow. Besides.” He paused. “Now you can’t go to Aldi’s so you’ll have to get used to my apartment.” The tension from their earlier conversation seemed to bleed out as Tim wrapped his arms cautiously around his chest, giving a light squeeze. “If it’s too much we can go back to your apartment, but there’s no way you’re getting rid of me.”

“You’re a great brother.” Dick squeezed Tim’s forearm, unable to return the hug.

“So are you.”

5. Jason
A week in, and Dick was already going stir crazy in Tim's apartment. He could only do so many squats and one-armed push-ups before Tim caught him, and he was tired of playing board games and watching movies. It was nice, though, that his friends and all of his siblings had stopped by to hang out with him. Well, all of them but Jason. But, Jason was predictable. Tim was spending the next few hours with friends, and everyone else was busy, which is why Dick wasn’t surprised when he saw combat boots at the window as he walked in to make dinner.

Why Jason was so determined never to use the front door was beyond him, but Dick was content to wait for him to disarm Tim’s security system. He could just unlock it for him, but if Jason wanted to do things the hard way, he may as well do them the hardest way. And so, Dick went back to making a frozen pizza. He was about to put it in the oven when he heard Jason clump into the room.

“You were in here? Fuck you! You could have opened it.” He muttered angrily. Dick turned to gape at him.

“There’s literally a door that you have keys to, right there. You wanted me to ruin your dramatic entrance?”

“Oh, so I’m the dramatic sibling? Who’s been on the news all week, nerd?” Jason teased. Dick threw the pizza box at him, and he easily batted it away. “Frozen pizza? What’s wrong with you? At least order one if you’re going to have junk anyways.” Dick rolled his eyes.

“And expose this as Tim’s apartment? You said it yourself, I’ve been in the news all week. How am I supposed to disguise this?” He gestured to his immobilized arm. Jason shrugged, unimpressed, picking up the box.

“You could figure something out. Sit, I’m cooking.” He pulled in a couple bags of groceries in from the windowsill. “Also, you go to Aldi’s? What are you? A boomer?” Dick scoffed in mock offense.

“I see young adults there all the time. At least I don’t go to, I don’t know where did you even go? Some hipster farmer market where jam is like seven dollars?”

“Dick, we’re literally rich.” Jason lightly cuffed the back of his head as he walked by. “Farmers markets are where we should be shopping. Local business and all that jazz. And it’s organic.”

“But Aldi’s is convenient and has frozen pizza.” Dick whined, earning a groan from Jason.

“You’re just lazy, admit it.”

“I am. And you’re just not like the other girls.” He retorted.

“If you’re talking about you and Tim being the ‘other girls’ than yeah, I’m a cut above. Just like my juicy, fresh, locally and ethically sourced meat.” Dick rolled his eyes. He peaked in one of Jason’s bags.

“Hmm, maybe I should start going to your farmer’s market.” He muttered, examining a ripe tomato.

“Yeah right, you’ll ruin it.” Jason swiped the tomato out of his hand. “They’re on Thursday mornings at nine, they’d interrupt your beauty sleep.” Translating from Jason-speak, that was an invitation, and he did not pass up on those. Dick grabbed his phone and googled for it.

“The one off of Park Road?” He asked, writing it down in his calendar.

“Don’t try it with that.” Jason warned, waving an arm vaguely at his cast before returning to dicing the tomato. “You’ll actually ruin it.” Dick cast a resentful glance at the stupid thing. Pain in the ass.

“Hopefully, it’s safer than Aldi’s, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe shopping there again.” He sighed melodramatically, managing to get Jason to turn, face showing concern for a split second before he realized it was a joke. Aw. He loved his siblings. He attempted to duck as a tomato stem was thrown at him, but his limited mobility only got him so far, and it landed in his hair. Which sucked because he couldn’t actually reach that far, and shaking his head wasn’t working.

Jason quickly realized his mistake and recovered the stem, Dick thought about taking it as an opportunity to poke him in the side but aborted after deciding not to be an idiot. Startling Jason while injured could probably be lethal. Jason lingered, stroking his hair, hesitantly brushing past his bullet wounds. Dick shifted slightly feeling oddly self-conscious, and the fingers recoiled, as if burned. “If you want a shower while I’m here, let me know, your hair’s filthy.”

“Kay. Thanks, Jay.” He opted to ignore the insult, watching as his brother went back to cooking. It was oddly domestic, how Jason was now. It was another thing he thanked the speedsters for messing up. Jason’s anger was still there, but he wasn’t running around in a Nightwing or Batman costume killing people, and Dick thanked whatever gods existed for that. He could almost pretend it never happened, Jason had never tried to unmask him and Damian, or kill Damian and Tim, or turned into a tentacle monster. They were like bad dreams. Sometimes, he did find himself wishing the timeline could correct more, that Jason hadn’t died, but on the other hand, he found himself worrying that in the next shift, they wouldn’t get him back. As it was, Jason was in his life, popping in at random and offering invitations to farmer’s markets, and he couldn’t really ask for more. Maybe he should break his arm more.

Poking through the rest of the bags he stumbled upon something surprising. Carefully, he took out the fruits and veggies, placing them on the table, turned the bag on its side, and gently pulled out an old photo album. “You brought it.” Dick murmured reverently, stroking the front cover. He never touched this album, but he immediately had recognized exactly what it was. All the pictures from Jason coming to the manor to his death were kept here. He had copies of a few, Alfred replacing the ones he lost along with his old apartment. As it was, this album was kept on the mantle of the manor’s family room, never collecting a speck of dust, and rarely opened. He’d seen Tim peak in it once out of curiosity, and Bruce staring at the unopened book, but Alfred was the only one he’d known to actually flip through the pages.

He glanced up, Jason’s shoulders were tense, and he had started sauteing the vegetables. Water was boiling on the other burner, and he caught a glimpse of uncertainty as he turned to the side to throw some pasta in. “We don’t need to look at it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d bring it because, well, I offered, and I didn’t want to go back on it. But I’ve been meaning to go through it just, you know.” Because he had holes in his memories and was nervous about what he missed. “I figured since I already told you we could look through photos together it wouldn’t be weird if-”

“You’re good, I want to.” Dick assured, cutting off Jason’s awkward rambling.

“Yours is in the other bag, I brought both.”

“Hrmm.” That was, well… embarrassing. Alfred had taken some, ah, memorable photos of him.

“That wasn’t a good hrmm.” Jason noted, digging through a cupboard for a strainer. Dick took in a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of spices and garlic. Pans clattered, and Jason reemerged. “What’s in your album?” His tone had dropped the usual edge, which meant he was curious.

“Nothing. I mean well… not nothing. Just some photos of me being dumb.” Alfred liked to capture them when they were being their authentic selves, it wasn’t uncommon for him to go through security footage to take screen shots of family members doing stupid shit when they thought no one was looking. And unfortunately for Dick, that meant broken chandeliers and climbing to places he really, definitely, shouldn’t be.

“You were a kid.” Jason chided. “It can’t be that bad.” He had no idea. None of his siblings did, really. He’d been a nightmare when he first came to the manor, running away, throwing tantrums, refusing to eat, breaking things for no reason, yeah no. Alfred kept the photos as a reminder of how far he’d come, but Dick would really prefer if no one-

“Jay, put that down.” He warned. Jason was holding the book on the other side of the table.

“It can’t be worse than mine, and if you’re gonna see mine, it’s only fair that I see-” Dick stood up and shuffled around the table. He held out his hand. Jason stared at him. Water bubbled on the stove, disrupting the silence of the room.

“I won’t judge you, I just wanted to see.” Jason handed the album over but didn’t let go. “But if you can’t trust me enough to see it or whatever then-”

“It’s not about trust.” Dick bit his lip. He was the oldest. It was bad enough that Tim and Jason had to babysit him, he didn’t know if he could stand it if Jason knew what he was like… before. “It’s embarrassing.”

“And my photos aren’t? Dick, I’m trying here.” The edge was back, but it wasn’t out of anger. There was hurt behind his eyes. Dick looked back down at the album. His mind went back to a conversation with Clancy. “I know you only ever let people see parts of yourself. If your family tries to get to know more of you, what are you going to do?” He still wasn’t sure. “It’s okay to take that risk, it might not work out, but weigh the benefits and the risks.”

“Dickie, you still there?” He loosened his grasp on the album, looking back up at Jason.

“Mm, you can look through it.” Butterflies fluttered in his chest.

“You sure?” Jason-speak for, ‘I’m concerned that I coerced you into this and manipulated you into making the choice you didn’t want to make’. Or something like that. Dick nodded, and padded back around the table, settling in his seat. Jason scooted back to the stove, and drained the pasta, portioning out two servings. He passed Dick a plate and silverware.

“Dick, I swear to God if you cry, I’m leaving. You can’t cry on the first page.” They were settled on Tim’s sofa, albums laid out side by side on the coffee table, going through one flip at a time. Dick (who’d won a coin toss) had taken the first flip and was currently trying not to lose his mind over a picture of Jason jamming a hamburger in his face.

“I forgot how small you were, your feet can’t even touch the floor, I can’t, I forgot you were baby, how could I forget you were baby?” Jason flushed, turning red up to his ears.

“I was malnourished you ass, jeez.” That somehow made him want to cry more. Jason bristled and frustratedly flipped open his album. He made it three seconds before commenting. “What the fuck?” Dick glanced over, a very sullen, banged up eight-year-old glared at the camera in one photo. A second showed him running away from the dinner table, food forgotten behind him. Another showed him on the chandelier, screaming at Bruce. And so on. Dick winced. Maybe this was a bad decision.

Jason was staring at him, with a vague look of concern (and what he hoped wasn’t pity). “I wasn’t exactly the most well-behaved child-”

“Did the circus fucking abuse you?!” Jason half shouted. Dick glanced at the page and back to Jason. It must have been a trick of the light, he swore he saw a green spark briefly dance across his eyes.

“What? No, I got beat up in Juvie.”

“YOU WERE IN JUVIE?” He bellowed, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. Dick tried to scoot back on the couch, but he was already at the edge.

“It wasn’t my fault, the state didn’t have anywhere to put me so they-”

“They put you in JUVIE?” This was not the reaction Dick had anticipated.

“It’s fine Bruce got me out, and bribed the mayor to put new judges in charge of family services-”

“I’ll kill them.” Jason muttered, eyes wide as he scanned the photos. “You were eight! You can’t even go there until you’re twelve! A shrimp like you in juvie? Were they trying to kill you?!?”

“It’s fine.” He’d have to make sure he didn’t follow through on that threat. Jason scoffed.

“It’s not fine. They fucking put you in juvie!” Jason pressed both his hands over his eyes.

“You can’t cry on the first page.” Dick weakly parroted. This had spiraled out of control. He patted Jason’s shoulder.

“I’m. not.” He groaned. “It’s just…” Dick leaned in for an awkward side hug. He couldn’t exactly reach around Jason’s shoulders, so he settled for wrapping an arm around his lower back. “I know kids that went there and never came back.”

“I get it.” He was terrified when he went, thought he was going to die there. “The police sometimes took kids from the circus.” They didn’t even need to be in Gotham for it to happen. “I thought they were going to juvie… uh you remember the Court of Owls right?” Jason silently slid an arm around him. He couldn’t exactly feel it through the cast, but it was a nice gesture.

“So, you’re saying you’re lucky you went to juvie.” Dick was really missing his ability to shrug.

“Eh, what happened, happened, no use crying over spilt milk.” Besides, he could always hash it out with Clancy if he felt like it. Had touched on it a couple times already. “It’s not like your childhood was better.” He glanced down at the tiny, malnourished Jason.

“I know, I just wasn’t expecting…” He slid out of the half hug and waved at the photos. “You. Juvie.”

“I know I’m not the hardened criminal type, but I got a pretty good villain impression.” He flipped to the next page of the album. “Aw look at you studying.” Jason flipped a page.

“Aw look at you, throwing a book at Bruce.” He paused for a moment. “I can’t believe I thought you were the easy kid.” Dick snorted.

“Fuck Batman, am I right.”

“Eight-year-old Dick Grayson really did say fuck Batman.” There was a bit of awe in his voice. “God, what happened to you?”

“In like a why was I like that kind of way, or why am I not like that way?”

“Both?”

“Trauma? Training? Therapy?” One of them had to explain it.

“So, Tim said we’re supposed to do that thing yeah?” They’d finished Jason’s album, but had hardly made a dent in Dick’s. Which was probably for the best, because Dent would be playing a bigger role soon, and Dick didn’t know if he could keep Jason from shooting him. His arm, as Leslie begrudgingly mentioned, had fractured along old lines.

“What thing? Help me get my pajamas on or something? I can almost do it myself you know.” He could get his pants on and sleep shirtless if he felt like it.

“Ugh, no, but the shower offer stands so Tim can have a break.” Dick groaned out of frustration, showering was the absolute worst, but Jason was right.

“Fine.” He relented. “What did Tim say?” Jason grabbed his good arm and helped him up off the couch.

“You want to talk about the family kidnapping with everyone. If you need me to take care of your stalker I can-”

“They died in the crash.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and followed Jason to the bathroom. “No, he has it in his head that I want to ‘level the playing field’ or something. But I’m not doing anything, people have been asking me.”

“Asking you what?” Jason turned to grab a towel. Dick slumped in the shower chair.

“If I’m mad or hate them or whatever.” The towel was plopped around his shoulders.

“Hnn.”

“That wasn’t a good hnn.” Dick noted.

“I mean I know you don’t hate me, but I am curious about what you’d say.” The sound of rushing water hummed in the background as Jason started the shower. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I know what you’d say.” He mumbled sheepishly.

“I don’t hate you for the stupid shit you did, you weren’t in your right mind.” Jason flicked water at his face.

“Yeah right.”

“You needed help, you were with the League for FIVE YEARS, I mean look at what they did to Cass and Damian.” The League had fucked up over half his siblings at this point if he counted Tim. Jason lowered the chair into a deeper recline.

“And sending me to Blackgate was helping?” He cocked an eyebrow. Dick gestured vaguely with one hand.

“You were running around with a kidnapped child, what was I supposed to do? Put you in the basement where we kept Hush? That didn’t work out so well. I’m sorry though, I should have figured something else out-”

“Eh, I didn’t really mind at the time, I was more focused on poisoning the food, so I guess we’ll call it even.” Jason cut him off and started running water through his hair.

Dick laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “And look at you now, showering handicapped people. God, never change Jay.” More water was flicked in his face.

“So, what do you hate the most about me?” Dick closed his eyes. The shampoo bottle clicked open.

“I hate that you died.” He opened his eyes. Jason’s hands hovered for a moment before he began scrubbing his hair.

“Sorry about that.” He spat bitterly.

“Wasn’t your fault.” Dick replied steadily. “And I got you back, but you were missed.” His words hung in the air, only perturbed by the sounds of bubbles sloshing. “I hate that I didn’t do more. Sure, we hung out. But I didn’t do enough.”

“You had your own life.” Dick stared at Jason, eyebrows raised.

“That didn’t stop me from being around for Tim.”

“No, it certainly didn’t.” There was an edge of bitterness in his tone.

“I’m sorry.” The water turned back on.

“I know.” Jason sighed. “But this was supposed to be about what you hated about me.”

“I hate that I failed you.”

“That’s something you hate about yourself. And you didn’t fail, dumbass. You just weren’t perfect. I never asked you to be perfect.” Warm water poured over his scalp. “Besides, I have to deal with Bruce not being over me dying, and dying was not my fault, I don’t want to deal with you too.”

“I’m not asking you to, I go to therapy for that. Actually, you dying was the first thing that got me to go. Soooo, thanks I guess.” Jason snorted.

“You’re damn welcome.” He smirked. “That’s the first time anyone’s thanked me for dying, I kinda like it. Tim should thank me too.”

“Truuuue, he’s only around cuz you died.” The water cut off.

“So what do you actually hate about me?” Jason glanced at him curiously.

“I dunno…” He hadn’t expected to be pressed further. “Sometimes, I feel like you don’t understand me.”

“How so?” A towel pressed against his head.

“I don’t know, like I feel like everyone thinks I’m perfect, and I’m Bruce’s favorite, the Golden Boy or whatever. There’s just a lot of expectations.”

“I mean you kind of are perfect.”

Dick snorted. “You literally just told me I wasn’t.” Jason looked at him thoughtfully.

“You know, in this timeline, I got to see one of your shows.”

“Really?” Jason threw the towel on the counter.

“Oh yeah, it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” He grinned. “So yeah, you’re on a pedestal, you’ve been up there from day one.”

“What can I do to not be on it?”

“This right here, it’s a good start. Keep doing dumb shit and flying out of cars, and you’ll be on my level in no time.” Dick stuck out his tongue.

“Brat.” Jason pulled him into a sitting position, eyes lingering on his cast.

“Just don’t die doing it, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.” It was all either of them could do really. Death was commonplace in their lives, and Dick would be lying if he promised he wouldn’t die. But for family, he’d never stop until after his final breath.

6. Damian
Dick counted his campaign to go home successful, because what had started as Tim spending a few hours with Cassie and Bart had turned into a fully fledged space adventure. Something about Kon’s favorite cow being abducted. Sounded about right. Jason drove him home in the morning to meet his new wardens.

“Bruce.” He intoned through gritted teeth, preparing himself for a lecture. Jason zoomed out of his driveway the minute he shut the car door. Bruce simply placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve thought about what you said.” About the fit he’d thrown like a twelve-year-old?

“I didn’t mean it, I just-”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m the one who should be sorry.” He fidgeted awkwardly. “And I am.” Dick released a breath of relief. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up this relationship all the way. “I’ll be back in the mornings and evenings to help get you situated. I want to give you… space.” That seemed too good to be true.

“But?” Bruce shrugged innocently.

“I think he can keep an eye on you.” Bruce opened the door. “I figured you two needed some time together.” He slunk back to the car, leaving Dick standing just inside his door. Alfred the Cat immediately brushed past his legs, and he slammed the door shut, preventing escape.

“-tt- He’s well trained, you didn’t need to do that.” Damian popped up from his place on the living room couch, paused Animal Crossing, and crossed the room to scoop up his cat.

“Better safe than sorry, how are you?” Of course, Bruce had brought Damian. Dick could shrug off Bruce’s worries with a practiced ease, but Damian’s concern would literally melt his heart.

“No doubt, better than yourself.” His eyes lingered on his cast, tension drawing in his brow and the corners of his lips pulling further and further down the longer he looked.

“Mmm. Well, I’m doing fine, so that’s good.” Dick crossed the room, moving to sit on the right side of the couch. Damian trailed behind him. “You bring Titus too?” Damian plopped down next to him.

“Don’t be absurd, your apartment’s too small for him.” He placed a pillow on Dick’s lap, settling it in between his casted arm and chest, and passed over Alfred. “Cats’ purrs have healing properties, they can promote bone growth.”

“Neat. Thanks Dames, that was thoughtful.” Damian nodded curtly, and hastily picked up his video game controllers and diverted his attention back to his game, his ears red. It was funny, how alike he and Bruce were. Bruce, handing him Damian, and Damian handing him Alfred. A weird message of ‘I’m sorry, but here spend some time with this person/pet I love’. Both of them were slowly making progress on the words front, but in their family, actions spoke louder than words.

Alfred purred contently, stretching out across the pillow. A warm patch of light shone into the room, creating a cozy little spot for the kitten, and as if on a cue, he began to purr after less than a minute. He wondered if you could train a cat to purr, it wasn’t like he was petting it or anything. Maybe Damian had like a secret command or whistle or something. As it was, it seemed the kid was swapping his game out for another. He passed the left joy-con to Dick.

“Uh, Dames, I can play one handed but this is kind of unfair.” He protested.

“Obviously.” The new game clicked into place. “Duke suggested we play a single player game co-operatively as a means of improving our communication.” Damian muttered, settling himself on the opposite end of the couch. Again, so much like his father, initiating physical distance when scared or upset. Internally, Dick sighed at the move, he was hoping Damian would feel a bit more comfortable, having already spent some time with him. Externally, he grinned.

“Yeah, that’s the only reason you want to play. Training.” Damian’s nostrils flared.

“Father has VR training; I don’t see how this is that much dissimilar.”

“It’s not, but this is more fun.” Damian clicked a few buttons. Legend of Zelda, Breath of the Wild opened on the screen, title sequence beginning to play.

“It’s no Cheese Viking.” He heard him mutter under his breath as a princess called for the waking protagonist. Dick hadn’t played before, but Damian had, and if he liked it, Dick was determined too as well.

“Richard, stop climbing trees, we have enough apples!” An hour later, Damian was lying sidewise on the couch, legs hanging off the end.

“But you said this is Master Mode and I’m still not sure what that means, but I want to be prepared.” Dick reasoned teasingly. Damian groaned. “Besides there could be more eggs.”

“We’re supposed to do the quest. It took Duke and I under fifteen minutes.” He whined.

“You did this with Duke? I thought he gave you the idea.” Damian flushed.

“Well, it was his idea.” Damian had broken two fingers a month ago, possibly still a sore spot. “We didn’t play for nearly this long.” He looked nervous almost, downplaying the ordeal. Downplaying his time spent with another sibling. Yeah no, Dick would be nipping that mindset in the bud.

“Either way I’m glad you two had fun.” Damian scoffed, focusing on retrieving two apples.

“I had more fun beating shrines than picking apples.” Dick laughed at the one-eighty. Damian grinned as well, too lighthearted to be a sneer. The kid had grown so much.

“Okay then, how about we pick ten more, then we can do a shrine.” The negotiations began.

“Five.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.”

“Nine.”

“Six.”

Dick stared Damian down. Damian didn’t flinch. “Seven it is then.” Right in the middle, but skewed towards the kid, he could live with that.

Four shrines, and a retrieved paraglider later, Dick noticed the time. “Oh, hey, you want to break for lunch?” Damian shrugged in response, his shoulders digging into the side of his thigh. Damian was now completely splayed out across the couch, head pressed into Alfred’s pillow (the cat, surprisingly hadn’t moved the entire time, nor had it stopped purring, and Dick was almost certain it was either enchanted, or incredibly well trained). “I can order pizza, or we can get whatever with Uber.” He offered.

“Pennyworth sent a week’s worth of food.” Damian lazily supplied.

“Are you staying the whole week?” Damian nodded, perhaps a bit sullenly.

“Father asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m glad you decided to.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Please, I’m well aware you have better things to do.” Dick paused the game.

“Damian, I can’t use my right arm or lift my left one over my head. There’s like five things I can do right now, and the best one is spending time with you.” Clearly, he wasn’t over the kidnapping incident.

“Then why did you opt to stay with Drake?” Damian sat up suddenly, startling Alfred off Dick’s lap.

“Tim was holding me hostage. Besides,” He hated to admit it, but, “I wasn’t exactly capable of doing everything myself.”

“You could have stayed at the Manor.” ‘With me’ went unsaid.

“I wasn’t sure how Bruce would feel about it.” Not with their argument last week. Damian frowned, and flung himself back into a cushion.

“Father would have appreciated if you’d stayed.” Replace father with ‘I’, Damian had taken some time to figure out at first, but it wasn’t so hard when you realized his propensity to substitute others for himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you guys, but I’ll make it up to you this week, alright?” Damian scoffed, looking away. The words hung in the air as Damian sunk further into the couch. “Look, I’m sorry you get stuck in the middle, I’m trying to work things out.” Damian slid down the rest of the couch, tapping his leg with the top of his head.

“Understood.” A moment’s hesitation slipped past them. “Richard?” Damian’s eyes bored a hole through the television. Humming in response, Dick slipped a hand into the boy’s hair. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Damian mustering up enough courage to ask his question. “Do you hate me?” His voice was small, and again, Dick was reminded of just how young Damian was.

“Of course not. We’re the best, remember?” He smiled bitterly at the wall, recalling the joy of hearing those words, and the pain of what followed.

“You were angry about what I said.” Damian was burying his face into the couch, hiding any display of emotion from view.

“Not at you.” Never at him. He couldn’t deny his anger, but he could focus it, and that’s where they all seemed to falter. Always so angry at themselves for failing, instead of the villain that did the deed. Or at each other for not caring enough, trying to control how the someone reacted, instead of accepting the love that was there. Or using the anger as a shield, because if you pushed first, blew up, fired someone, kicked them out, you could leave before they left you. Their family was angry, anxious, traumatized, and messy, but Damian was his brother, and he would never take that out on him.

“But I-”

“Got drugged, kidnapped, and strapped to some crazy machine against your will, and were forced to share one of your secrets with me.” Dick recounted. They should be angry at the stalker, and no one else. “That has to suck and I’m sorry you had to go through it. I know you don’t hate me. It wasn’t a yes or no question, and even if you hated me with all your heart, you’re still my little brother and I’d still love you.” Damian’s breathing was ragged, and Dick switched to rubbing his back. “Face it kiddo, you’re stuck with me.”

Dick caught Alfred hopping onto the edge of the couch out of the corner of his eye. The cat strode over the backrest, leaping when he reached the end and flopping directly back onto the center of the pillow. He curled into a ball in his ray of unbroken sun, purring contentedly. Dick closed his eyes, taking a mental picture of the room to hold in his memory for years to come. If anything at all, this, the peaceful moments, were what he hoped he could hold onto. His memories stripped once before, he knew it might be too much to ask, too much had been taken for too long already. He never asked for much just, please, let him remember his family the next time he woke up in a white gown.

After a while, Damian finally spoke up, asking one final question. “If it had been you in the machine, what would you say?” Dick flicked his eyes open, shaken from his thoughts.

“It makes me sad that you never say what you feel.” Damian rotated, facing up and waited until Dick could see his face to roll his eyes.

“Sap.” He commented. “Some of us are too advanced for emotions.” Dick chuckled.

“Try to dumb it down for us amateurs alright?” He un-paused the game, lunch long forgotten in the lazy haze of afternoon reconciliation.