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schweeeppess · 5 years

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Chapter I

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Tim knew something was wrong when he called Dick twice and was sent to voicemail both times. Normally that was fine; Dick was a pretty busy person, so Tim could understand that; he just texted his brother instead, telling him to call when he got the chance, and didn’t give it much more thought until after patrol when he checked his phone and still didn’t have a response.

Frowning, Tim turned his phone off and looked over at Bruce. Normally whenever Dick didn’t answer text messages it meant he was either undercover or isolating himself.

If this was the first option, Tim would check with Barbara first then let Bruce know just in case he tried contacting Dick and couldn’t reach him. Bruce got overprotective.

If it was the second option, though… There was an entirely different protocol for that between Tim and Dick.

So he texted Babs and went to change out of the Robin uniform, running up the stairs once he was hopping into his shorts to get to the Manor because it was almost four in the morning and he had to get home in case Dad woke up and decided to check up on him, only stopping to say bye to Bruce and Alfred before booking it for the Drake estate.

As he approached the looming mansion, concern continued to roll in Tim’s gut as he thought back to the fact that Dick might need him and he wouldn’t know about it until Barbara answered.

Because something was definitely very wrong. Tim could feel it in his bones, in his blood, in his lungs. The sharp and bitter taste of fear was in the air, and it was unforgiving as it attacked Tim’s psyche worse than the toxin designed to induce it did. Underfoot grass crunched softly; quietly, in contrast to the raging storm and rolling of Tim’s gut caused by anxiety.

Maybe, he wondered as he crawled into his room through the window, Dick was just tired of him. Maybe Dick wasn’t avoiding Bruce, and maybe he wasn’t undercover. Maybe Dick was sick of talking to him, maybe he’d taken advantage of having a brother too much, maybe it was Tim’s fault—

No.

Tim shook his head, pulling his pajama pants up.

No, Dick wasn’t like that. He was a good and genuine person, and if Tim were annoying him he’d say it. Dick was honest. He was real.

Right before he curled up under his blankets, Tim checked his phone for a text from Barbara.

Barbara G: Nope.

Tim frowned, turning off his phone.

So Dick wasn’t undercover, then. That meant he was avoiding Bruce. Something was wrong, so Tim was going to have to get Bruce off his case on patrol tomorrow, which meant he was going to have a long night.

___

“You’re planning on doing what?”

Predictably, the whole ‘ditching Bruce’ plan wasn’t working. Maybe that was because Bruce was real mother-henny even after about a half a year or so of Tim being Robin. He doubted that the hovering would get any better with time, actually.

He paused on the rooftop he was on, shifting a little uncomfortably as he did, Tim answered, “Visiting Nightwing.”

“…and you want to go alone. Through Gotham, and into Blüdhaven, unaccompanied. Am I correct in assuming this?”

“Yeah, and?” Like hell if Tim was backing down now. He hadn’t when he’d stared Bruce down about a year ago to blackmail Batman, and he wasn’t about to start doing it now.

Robin stood up to Batman. (It was, like, a requirement.)

Bruce grunted.

“No.”

“Come again.”

“I said no.” The tone Bruce was using brokered no room for argument, and Tim tightened his jaw. “Finish your route then head back.”

“Ba—”

“This conversation is over. I’ll see you back home, Robin.”

Yeah, Tim bitterly thought to himself as he readied himself to continue heading toward Blüd full of bitter spite. See you back home when I get back.

Just as he fired his grapple, he heard a loud stream of curse words spout off from behind him and Tim whipped around, only for whoever it was that needed their mouth washed out with soap to run right past him and jump off the roof.

Heart jumping to his throat, Tim was ready to jump down after the person to catch them, but he stopped short when he saw the figure—male, Tim could finally make out, and with a red helmet—pull out their own grapple gun and shoot a line with what looked like practiced ease.

Tim didn’t hesitate to follow the red-helmet wearing guy. Normally, whenever someone was running, they either needed help, were trying to get away from Robin or Batman, or were just in a rush.

Odds were, though, since this guy had a red helmet, that he was a bad guy or something. Gotham villains seemed to have a theme of being flashy.

Somewhere in Tim’s mind he remembered the Red Hood—Joker’s ex-alias way back in the day—because of the red helmet. That couldn’t be intentional, could it? Was it?

God, Tim hoped not as he landed on the roof the other guy had and ran after him. The Joker had a history with Robins that Tim wasn’t eager to continue.

…that sounded vaguely insensitive, even in Tim’s brain. He hadn’t even voiced that comment and it still came out wrong.

Oh shit was the follow-up thought, which was completely warranted because red helmet had stopped at the edge of this roof to face him, and Tim was entirely unprepared for that—bad guys didn’t normally stop and turn around to face the good guys, at least the henchmen didn’t.

“I am really busy right now, Robin,” the guy quickly said, his voice coming out chillingly robotic but distinctly young—maybe early twenties?—even with the modulator, “so I don’t have time for your shit—if Batman’s around, tell him to fuck off too, actually—and I therefore ask you to please jump off the nearest roof and have a great face-punching night and kindly stop following me, thanks.”

With that, the guy jumped off the roof onto the neighboring one, leaving Tim with his mouth in a surprised and wholly undignified O.

Did—did that guy just—

No fucking way.

Now very intrigued, Tim followed Mr. Badass, vaguely wondering if Jason would mind if Tim added this guy as his hero.

“Hey, wait a sec mister!”

A very loud, very long, and very dramatic groan was heard probably from space at Tim’s shout, and he continued to silently gape in marvel and run to catch up.

Bruce would probably disapprove, Tim thought to himself.

…he didn’t really care. Robins hardly ever cared what Batman thought, actually, from what Tim had both experienced and seen.

Despite the overexaggerated noise of frustration, red helmet waited for him clearly anxious as he stood on the roof, arms crossed and looking for all the world like he had somewhere to be.

“What can I help you with and how fast can I do it?” were the first words from his mouth, and Tim’s amazement spiked.

Just who was this guy?

“What’s your rush?” Tim blurted. “What’s your name, too? Why the red helmet? Who are you?”

“I have something very time-sensitive I need to get to, my name is Noneya Business—call me Noneya, Business was my father—the red helmet looks cool, and I’m nobody you need to worry about, ‘kay?” Noneya answered, ticking off his responses on his fingers as he said them. “That all?”

Tim absorbed the answers, processed them, and finally said, “Can I help somehow? With your ‘time-sensitive something’?”

It surprised him when Noneya seemed to think about his offer, and it surprised him even more when Noneya said, “…fine, you’re his brother anyways right?”

He didn’t have time to think about that question before Noneya added, “No Batman if I say yes, a’ight? It’s enough with your ass Robin self.”

Noneya’s sudden accent sounded natural—like he’d been hiding it the entire conversation and had given up.

“No Batman if we’re not gonna be doing ‘ny criminal stuff,” Tim promised, letting a bit of his own accent slip into his speech.

A scoff of resignation was as much as he got before Noneya bit out a quick, “Hurry up, kid,” and was running off the roof again.

Tim paused to think about what he was doing. He was about to go off with a stranger to do fuck knows what and had promised to not get Bruce involved if criminal activity was uninvolved.

Growing progressively stressed out, Tim ran after Noneya, and re-thought his life choices as something Noneya’d said flashed back into mind sometime during the pursuit.

“You’re his brother anyways right?”

What did he…

Oh, shit.

Tim looked at the person to his right, bulked up with respectable and clear muscle, almost reminding him of Bruce, and suspected he knew how to use those muscles to fight. He couldn’t have meant Dick, could he? But who else could he have meant?

“Where’re we goin’?” he decided to ask, carefully adding a little space between himself and Noneya, ready to reactivate his comm to contact Bruce. If this guy had something to do with Dick’s radio silence…

“Middle ground,” was Noneya's response.

Scowling a little, Tim resigned himself to wait for them to reach this ‘middle ground’ to ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue. What did you to do Dick?

It took eight minutes to arrive at the ‘middle ground’ that Tim discovered was an abandoned electronics store.

An entire eight minutes of awkward silence, at least it was awkward on Tim’s side.

Noneya beckoned him to follow, pulling the helmet off, and Tim did, hand hovering over his bo as he did, ready for a fight.

He shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have kept it from Batman, shouldn’t have followed Noneya in the first place—stupid, stupid, stupid—he was gonna get Jason’ed and it was his dumbass fault.

Stupid, he mentally hissed at himself as the door closed. Utterly brainless! Dumb, thoughtless, moronic, half-witted, empty-headed, dim, daft, dumb as fuck.

But Noneya didn’t move to attack him, instead flicking some lights on to reveal the electronics store wasn’t an electronics store at all anymore—it was entirely renovated and looked more like either a very small apartment or a very big bedroom.

A cot was tucked into the furthermost corner—with a view of all vantage points, Tim noticed—and there was a pillow and light blanket tossed on it, a microwave rested on a desk across from it with a minifridge right beside that, and a lamp also on the shabby desk. Several monitors were set up on a separate table, nearest to the entrance, and looked to be working on something.

Noneya tossed his helmet on the cot and ran a hand through his hair, back to Tim, and Tim found himself curious as to just who this man was. Maybe if he could get a look at Noneya’s face, he could snap a picture with the domino lenses and run it through databases back in the Batcave to give Noneya an actual name.

“Right, well, we’ve reached the middle ground, Robin,” Noneya sighed, dropping his hand to his hip and turning his head to face Tim. “You can call me Simon.”

No way that was Noneya’s real name, but it was a start.

Tim nodded, then couldn’t hold his question back any longer.

“Did you do something to Nightwing?”

Simon snorted, not missing a beat as he tossed himself into the chair in front of the desk with the monitors and started to analyze what was being displayed. “Way to keep a secret, Rob.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Key-clacking was his only response for a few seconds, then Simon hummed and said, “I know.”

Narrowing his eyes, Tim rested his hand on the bo-staff.

Glancing over at the subtle movement, Simon threw his head back and laughed, his hands going to his gut as he did.

“Is that you threatening me?” he continued to laugh. “God, how long have you been at the gig?”

The laughter was surprisingly offensive, and Tim gritted his teeth. “Answer the question.”

“I didn’t do shit to Dick, kid.”

Simon had returned to whatever he’d been doing, attention wholly on the screens displayed before him, and didn’t seem to notice the name he’d dropped.

It made Tim tense.

“What did you just say?” Tim asked, hand tightening around his bo-staff. This guy would be a risk if he knew their identities—Tim took back mentally wanting this guy to be one of his heroes. This was a big issue.

“I said,” Simon repeated in an irritated exhale, “that I didn’t do shit to Dick.” Lower, he muttered, “Why does everyone think I’m the issue?”

He didn’t really think before he was moving, if anyone would believe him (which they probably wouldn’t).

Tim blinked and he was behind Simon—had slammed Simon’s face into the desk, actually, and Simon was swearing a blue streak.

“I—uh, I’m sorry!”

He was panicking. Why was he panicking? He’d trained for this! Tim was Robin, he’d dealt with scarier villains! (No he hadn’t. The worst Batman let him deal with was Riddler, and this guy was much more intimidating than some dude who shoved himself into a purple and green suit)

Simon continued swearing his heart out as he held his nose, but he was doing it in Spanish now, and wow Tim hadn’t ever heard swearing like that before.

“Joder—fucking hell, kid, that hurt.”

Refusing to continue apologizing, Tim tried to play it off and said, “Who’s Dick?”

That surprised a laugh out of Simon.

“Puto, you basically just spoiled the secret. If I hadn’t known who was behind what mask before, Batman would probably be within whatever fucked up rights he has he has to either ground you or fire you.” Simon eyed him, holding his nose, and asked, “Are you even one of his kids? Damn he replaced the last one quicker than a speedster on drugs, huh?”

Tim…

Had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to say to that.

“Uh…”

Simon rolled his eyes and returned to the monitors.

“To answer your original question, no hice nada,” he said, clicking into different tabs. “Penguin got the drop on your brother. Auctioned him off to Edward Skeevers.”

Tim sucked in a sharp breath at the name, and Simon hummed.

“Exactamente. I’m tryna help y’all get your Dick back,” Simon continued, turning to give Tim a pointed look. “I don’ appreciate the effort you made t’break my nose.”

Still at a loss for words, Tim didn’t think before he was saying, “It didn’t work?”

Fucking hell, where’s the filter between my brain and my mouth?

Thankfully, Simon barked a laugh at that and replied, “Not quite. Casi. M’nose hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Oh.” Tim sat down on the floor next to Simon and looked up at him, eyeing the shock of white in the guy’s hair. “S’too bad.”

Simon hummed again and it went silent as he worked on the computers and updated some files.

When Tim had collected himself and his thoughts, he made a decision and sat up straighter.

“How can I help?”

Simon raised a brow and glanced over at him.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“How can I help?” Tim repeated, gaze locked on Simon’s own, and he noticed that Simon’s eyes were an unnatural, vivid acidic green.

He knew that shade from somewhere.

“You’re looking for Dick, right?” Tim pressed, scooting a little closer.

Simon frowned.

“…how willing are ya to do some footwork?”

And Tim was in.

#my writing #my work #my fanfiction #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Robiin #Robiiin #chapter two my peeps #enjoy!

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camsthisky · 6 years

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Batfam Feb (2018) Fic Recs

Sorry for such a long wait. I forgot about January, so to make up for it, this is a little longer than the past rec lists.

Mistakes Were Made by CaramelMachete Words: 7,369 Summary: Nightwing joins Jason as Robin and Batman for a stake-out. When Batman gets called away, Nightwing and Robin are unable to follow Batman's orders. They bite off a little more than they can chew. So, how much first aid training does Robin remember anyway? Jason worries that if he can't handle this, maybe he's not fit to be Robin after all. Comments: This is a great Dick ad Jason bonding fic, and I think I’ve read it before, but I don’t think I’ve rec’d it. The characterization is amazing, and it does a good job juggling the strained dynamics between Jason, Dick, and Bruce. It’s from Jason’s POV as Robin, too, which I don’t think we see enough.

been trying to do it right, been living a lonely life by streetlight_skeletons Words: 2,287 Summary: “Kid, what are you doing out alone?”

Even in the cold, shivering, the boy glared defiantly, the white lenses in his mask pushed up, and pushed out, “I- I’m not alone. Batman’s here”

To his credit, his voice seemed to shake from the cold and not paralysing fear, which Selina had expected. She grinned, looking around her mockingly. “Well, I don’t see him, do you?”

“He’ll- He’ll find you and beat you up if you hurt me,” the boy informed and, of that, Selina had no doubt.

Or,

There's an injured bird, but it wasn't the cat who did it Comments: I need more Robin Dick and Selina interacting. Also the fact that it’s hurt/comfort and Bruce is like an overprotective mother bear? Gold.

Brunch with Bruce by DawnsEternalLight Words: 2,014 Summary: Dick's overworked and exhausted, but he's not going to let that (or a cold) keep him from having lunch with Bruce. Comments: Dawn always manages to hit me right in the feeling with her fics, because sick, overworked, tired Dick and overprotective and worried Bruce is one of my biggest weaknesses.

The Blame Game by DawnsEternalLight Words: 5,669 Summary: While on a case together Jason gets hurt, and Dick realizes he's sicker than he thought he was. Comments: Dick and Jason angst!! This plays off the events of Batman #16 with Bane, and it’s done wonderfully. It was disappointing that we didn’t get the full account of what happened in comics, and this is a great insight into what could have happened! Plus, all of the hurt/comfort and angsting between brothers is amazing.

Scatter the Heavens into Stars by DawnsEternalLight Words: 2,416 Summary: Dick is getting over fear toxin, and finds the best way to do that is work a little and spend time with his dad and little brother. Comments: Cookies!! Dick spending time with his family!!! Cookie Dough!! His family loving him!!! Dick eating the cookie dough!!!!!!! I’ve read this no less than six times since it’s been posted.

Foreign Object by audreycritter Words: 86,122 (37/37) Summary: Bruce Wayne deals with a serious illness, one that threatens the most crucial part of himself. He and the family try to cope with their own fears and expectations about it and then the aftermath. This is written partly as character study, partly as family drama. Originally posted to tumblr. Comments: I’m going to be honest and admit that I had a really hard time starting this fic. I’ve read other things from the Cor Et Cerebrum series, but I hadn’t gotten to this one since it hits so close to home. However, I read this entire fic in one night, and it was absolutely worth it. The characterization is so on point, and there’s a balance of hurt, comfort, angst, fluff, and everything else.

Cold Hard Want by audreycritter Words: 12,310 Summary: “Are you happy?”

“I...I’m getting there.”

A follow-up to DC Rebirth Batman #35, in which Bruce recovers from being stabbed in the back and Damian considers the elusive nature of happiness. Comments: Holy shiitake mushrooms. Okay, so I’ve read this a few times, because it’s so good. Damian’s emotions are so real and present and I feel like I’m riding or dying along with him. It’s like I’m in the story and I’m seeing everything unfold, and my heart hurts for every single one of them. For Bruce, Selina, Dick, and Damian. It’s just so good.

Every Fiber of My Being by scxlias Words: 21,376 (5/5) Summary: As much as Dick and his siblings have argued, Bruce has never budged on his "Keeping Secrets Policy". There's not a person alive outside of the family that knows the secret identity of any of the Bats. Not even Dick's boyfriend. Dick understands the need for some secrets, knows that keeping their identities safe keeps them and their loved ones safe, but when he takes up the cowl, team dynamics aren't the only things that begin to change. Comments: This is a birdflash fic that I absolutely love to death. It’s an AU of the batfamily never telling anyone their identities, and it’s absolutely heartbreaking. You can feel how absolutely alone and stressed Dick feels as the weight on his shoulders grows heavier and heavier, until he’s just about to break, and it makes my heart hurt.

Fallen Bird by Croppmar000 Words: 2,887 Summary: Something had happened, something bad. Dick was a wreak. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Batman's birds didn't just die. Comments: A YJ fic that deals with Jason’s death and how Dick reacts to it. I love that it’s Wally and Roy that are there for Dick. I just love their friendship so much.

The Joys of Fatherhood by theragingstorm Words: 2,408 Summary: Young Bruce Wayne has a chance encounter with two small children, while all of them are still ignorant of how important they’ll become to each other. Comments: This is a cute little fic. It’s probably an AU, but it’s still cute nonetheless. It’s a “if Dick and Babs met as small children and hide from their fathers as they go absolutely mad with worry” fic, and it’s the cutest thing. Especially when Bruce comes into it.

Two Dead Birds by InsaneTrollLogic Words: 29,034 (15/15) Summary: There's some lunatic in red helmet running through Jason's territory. He wants to think it's a copy cat.

He's wrong. Comments: A Jason-centric fic. I’m not usually too big on fics that don’t have a lot of Dick in them, but this is a very good fic in my opinion. Jason’s characterization is very well done, and I love Dick when he comes into it as well. Time travel stories are also one of my favorite tropes though, so maybe I just have a weakness for it. The only thing is, it ends in a slightly open-ended way, and I’m not sure if that means there will be a sequel of if it’s just how the fic was meant to end. Either way, it was worth the read.

Catch Me by TantalumCobalt Words: 1,453 Summary: He hates these nights. When he’s stretched thin from chasing leads on three cases, when he’s trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible because he’s hyper conscious of what date is approaching, when a severe thunderstorm has driven him off the streets and back to the Manor. Comments: Again, stressed, overworked, tired Dick is my weakness. And Ren does a really good acknowledging the Blockbuster situation and the effects it has on Dick.

The Bat's Crest by lilylamaire Words: 168,328 (29/?) Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls. Comments: Okay, so this fic is Tim-centric, and it has a lot of Damian in it, too. I was a little disappointed because I’d hoped that there would be more Dick Grayson in it, but it makes sense why there isn’t. And it's a very good fic to address the problems of what would happen had Bruce Wayne not become Batman. It kept me on my toes, and when Dick does come in, I definitely think it’s worth the wait.

All your resolve (dissolves) by animegoil Words: 5,424 Summary: Season two: Tim watches Dick fall apart. Comments: Another YJ fic. I think this is one of my favorite topics to read about. Dick was under so much stress during the time while Bruce was on Rimbor, and I don’t think it’s addressed quite enough. This fic is one of my absolute favorites to go to when I think about Dick in season 2, and it does a really good job with Tim’s POV and his helplessness of being unable to properly figure out why Dick’s so stressed. There’s a lot of levels to this fic, and I honestly think it’s some of the best writing I’ve ever read.

The Wayne Family Ghost by pupeez4eva Words: 1,713 Summary: In which Bruce realises that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic. Comments: This fic is kind of hilarious. I don’t often read funny fics, but Damian getting in trouble for accidentally including Jason Todd in the family and Bruce having to deal with the fallout is always great.

Pixar by ChimaeraKitten Words: 3,076 Summary: Sometimes, favorite movies are influenced less by the movie itself, and more by the people one shared it with. (batfam + Favorite Pixar movies) Comments: This is literally one of the cutest fics out there. It addresses each individual kid with Bruce, and I love that I get emotions about each kid through their favorite movie. Chi does the dynamics between all of them really well, too.

Monkey by ChimaeraKitten Words: 570 Summary: Dick has a new shirt. Comments: Baby Dick is so cute and Bruce is such a good dad in this.

#fic recs #february fic recs #dc #monthly fic recs

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camsthisky · 6 years

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The Ache for Home

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: Dick goes missing, and Jason looks for him. He wonders, though, why he's the only one looking.

Happy Birthday to @laquilasse! Thanks for being a wonderful friend <3 (Also, this is only part one. Part two will come along sometime soon)

“Let me go!” Dick cries into the emptiness, straining against his restraints.

His gloves and boots are halfway across the room, and that’s the only reason that Dick hasn’t managed to break out of the leather straps holding him to this table. If his gear hadn’t been taken he’d probably be halfway out of the joint by now. But he’s trapped. He can’t do anything except wriggle uselessly and yell obscenities into the darkness.

He doesn’t even know where he is, right now. Somewhere under the city, maybe in the sewers by the feel of the air and smell of the place. He doesn’t remember how he got here, or even why he’s here. He doesn’t know who has him, or for what reason they’re keeping him here.

The only thing that he really knows for sure is that his mask hasn’t been taken off. The spirit gum is still holding strong, and he knows he’d feel it if the mask had been peeled off and the replaced. It doesn’t make any sense, but Dick’s not an expert on criminals—okay. Well, so he is a little bit. But he doesn’t even know who snatched him this time. The Joker’s never been interested in identities, so maybe this guy isn’t, either.

Still, he needs to get out of here. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here or if anybody’s on their way because he didn’t check in, but even if someone’s coming for him, he needs to at least try to meet them halfway.

Dick pulls against the restraints again, desperate to find a weak spot, but it’s useless. Dick can’t maneuver his wrists far enough either way to find something sharp to cut them with. All he can do is pull, and all that’s doing is rubbing his wrists raw.

Dick yells incoherently, and the sound echoes around him. He lets himself slump back against the table he’s strapped to and wonders what he’s supposed to do now.

“Well, well,” a voice says, and the sound of it sends a chill up Dick’s spine. He strains to see the person in the shadows, but they’re hiding too well. All he hears is a voice. A hoarse, creepy voice that reminds Dick of the nights he used to spend under the covers recovering from fear toxin. “You’re awake.”

“What do you want from me?” Dick demands, pulling at the leather straps again.

“Information,” the voice says, echoing around the dark cavern-sewer place they’re in. “You see, Bat Brat, you’ve got something in that brain of yours that I need. And you’re going to give it to me.”

“Like hell I will,” Dick snarls.

“I didn’t plan for the information to come voluntarily,” the voice tells him, and Dick’s blood runs cold at the implications. Torture. Dick’s going to get tortured for information. Good thing he’s had so much practice, that little voice in his head chimes in

He politely tells it to shut the hell up.

“Even if you could get it from me,” Dick says, “Batman knows I’m missing. You won’t have enough time to find whatever you’re looking for before somebody comes for me.”

“Except,” the voice whispers into his ear, and Dick tenses. He hadn’t even heard them move, and yet they’re so close. Close and fast enough to rival Wally, and silent enough to rival Batman. That’s more terrifying than Dick is willing to admit. “Except, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve, Bat Brat.”

Dick shivers. “What trick?”

There’s a definite in the voice’s tone as they sing-song, “No one is coming for you. No one even knows you’re missing.” And then the voice is gone, their cackle the only thing that’s left behind as it echoes around him.

Dick tries to stay calm, but whatever cool he’d had before—which, it really hadn’t been much—has left him, and he thinks he’s this close to a panic attack. He doesn’t know what the voice had meant by any of that “trick” stuff, but Dick thinks that he should be preparing himself to escape on his own, because it really hadn’t sounded like the voice had been lying.

Jason’s pissed off. Incredibly pissed off. He wants to hit something, and he’d prefer it if it were Dick’s face.

The bastard was supposed to meet up with him to drop off some information he needed for a case last night, but Dick had never showed. Dick won’t even answer his phone or his comm. And since Jason actually needs the information and can’t do anything without it, he’s been hunting the Dick-headed moron down all day, to no avail.

Seriously. The guy hadn’t been at his apartment, the penthouse, or any of the safehouses. Roy and Wally haven’t heard from him, and Jason had even had to try Clark. No, the last possible place that Jason can try is the one place he absolutely does not want to be. But it’s the only option.

Maybe he’d been hurt or something. Or maybe there’d been an emergency. Jason doesn’t know. Tim, the only person Jason even has a number for besides Dick, isn’t answering his phone, either, so it’s possible. But still, whatever the case, it doesn’t change the fact that Jason’s fucking pissed.

So when Jason pulls up on his motorcycle in the Cave to see Bruce and Tim and Alfred not in the middle of any emergency, it’s understandable why his mood darkens even further.

“Where is he?” Jason demands the moment the engine cute, and he throws his helmet aside because he’s really fucking angry. And Bruce can look at him all disapproving as much as he wants, but it’s not going to change that Jason’s regretting letting Dick help him this one time instead of gathering the info himself like he should have done.

“Where is who?” Tim asks, looking kind of annoyed. “And why did you call me twelve billion times?”

“Because I can’t get a hold of that fucking Dickhead!” Jason seethes, doing the stupid thing and ignoring the look Alfred throw his way. Whatever. Jason’ll make it up to the butler later, when he’s not pissed ten ways to hell. “He was supposed to have info for me last night, and he didn’t show up.”

“Jason—” Bruce says, but unless it’s a damn good excuse, Jason doesn’t want to hear it.

So he cuts in, “Did Damian scrape his elbow and the bastard come running like the overprotective mother hen he is? Or does he actually have a good reason for narrowing my window of opportunity on this case?”

Throughout his rant, though, all three faces before him only grow more and more confused, and Jason’s honestly about to say screw it and start searching the manor himself. Except—

“Jason,” Bruce says again, brow furrowed. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who am I—You’re kidding, right?”

Jason seriously can’t believe this is happening right now. Tim and Alfred might play dumb sometimes, but Bruce never does. It’s against whatever code he runs on, or whatever. The same code that orders him to brood all the damn time. But all he’s getting right now are blank looks from all three of them.

“No?” Tim says, leaning forward. “But if you needed info for a case, you should have just texted me or something. You didn’t have to—”

“Dick,” Jason yells, throwing his hands up in the air, and the room goes silent. “I’m talking about Dick Grayson. Nightwing? Wears ridiculous crap and pretends it’s fashion? The same guy that was supposed to meet me in Robbinsville last night?”

Bruce’s face hardens, and he swivels his chair around so that the back is facing Jason. Tim winces and sucks down into whatever the hell he’s working on. And Alfred—Alfred looks at Jason just like he had when Jason had first shown up back at the manor for the first time since coming back from the dead. Like he sometimes still does when he sees that damn case and thinks no one is watching.

Only, this time it’s not for Jason.

“The fuck is wrong with all of you?” Jason asks. “Did Dick—Did something happen to Dick last night or something?”

“Get out, Jason,” Bruce says, and his voice, it’s—it’s full of grief.

“The hell I will!” Jason cries, getting angry again. There’s something tight in his chest, and he can’t help but glance towards the cases—but there’s no memorial. Not like Jason’s. Nightwing’s costume isn’t even there. Jason turns back to Bruce. “If something happened, I deserve to know just as much as everyone else!”

“For god’s sake, Jason,” Tim says, shooting him a wild look. “What are you even—”

“Enough,” Bruce hisses, standing up from his chair. “That’s enough. We’re not talking about this anymore.”

“Newsflash, Bruce,” Jason sneers. “We haven’t talked about it. It’s just been you pushing me to the side. Again. Whatever happened, I’m not going to take being sidelined like this.”

Alfred even looks troubled now. “Master Jason, really—”

“Did you have Dick fake his death again? Or is Dick actually dead?” Jason asks, his heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to pay for cutting Alfred off later, but he can’t focus on it right now. “And why won’t you look me in the dam eye?! What happened?!”

Jason’s hands are trembling. He knows he’s automatically jumping to the worst-case scenario, but all of them are acting like Dick’s name is taboo or something, and with Bruce being so evasive, Jason doesn’t have any choice but to guess or search the manor himself.

And if Dick is dead, well. Jason doesn’t want to think about that. Last time Dick had been dead, Damian was dead, too, and Bruce hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eyes, and Tim had been crushed. And Jason? Jason had had two choices. Stay and take Dick’s place as big brother, or run.

He’d chosen the cowardly option. He’d run. He wonders if this time will be the same.

“Jason, why are you—” Tim says, his face twisting up weirdly, but Bruce cuts him off again.

“Dick is dead,” Bruce tells him, and Jason’s breath catches in his throat. But before Jason can say anything, Bruce is talking again. “He’s been dead for years. I know you two didn’t get along very well, but that’s no excuse for you to play game like these again. We’re done. Get out.” And with that, Bruce storms out of the Cave and up into the manor, and Jason can only watch him go.

Years? Dick’s been dead for years? That doesn’t—That makes absolutely no sense. Jason had just talked to Dick a few days ago to make sure Dick was getting that info. Wally and Roy hadn’t acted like Jason was crazy for asking. Not, it was just—just Bruce, Tim, and Alfred.

And a part of him, the part that watched that movie with Dick a few days ago and actually had a good time, breathes a sigh of relief against whatever grief had built up during that conversation. Jason’s not wrong, but he is missing something, and if he can get answers, he can prove that whatever grief is left is completely unfounded.

He turns a sharp gaze to Tim. “Do you want to explain what that—” he gestures towards the stairs leading to the manor, “—was about?”

Tim shoots him a glare. “Just give it up, Jason. I don’t know if you’re trying to get back at Bruce or whatever, but—”

“What in the hell,” Jason says. “What the actual fuck are you talking about? Get Bruce back for what? And if Dick were dead for the past couple years do you really think that I’d pull something like this?”

“Maybe you—”

Jason ruffles his hair with one hand. “For fuck’s sake, I literally talked to Dick on Wednesday. And Wally talked to him like Saturday or something. The hell are you all on?”

“Dick’s dead,” Tim says. “He died before you did. Did you finally snap or something?”

Jason drops his head into his hands and tries just to breathe. Whatever’s going on, something’s not adding up. Drugs? Big elaborate prank? Fake death? Fear Toxin? None of those seem plausible for the kind of reaction Tim and Bruce are giving him, and Alfred had looked so sad. They genuinely seem to think that Dick has been dead for years.

But Jason spoke to him a few days ago. He remembers punching Dick in his stupid face for daring to fake his death however long ago it was. He knows Dick’s still alive—or he’d been alive recently, at least. Jason has to dig. He’s a detective. He’s going to figure this out, with or without Tim’s help.

Marginally calmer, Jason looks back up, looks Tim dead in the eye and says, “I snapped a long time ago. But this time, I think it’s you guys that need to seriously evaluate what’s going on in those heads of yours. Dick’s alive, and I don’t care what I have to do to prove it.”

And with that, he picks up his helmet, slings a leg over his bike, and leaves crazy town to continue life without him.

Alfred’s spent years in the manor, cleaning, cooking, and raising unruly children.

It had started with Bruce, a child so deeply caught up in his own trauma he’d shut himself off to the point nothing seemed to get through that wall of his. Not until he’d become Batman and brought home a young child one night, and Alfred suddenly had another charge to look after.

Not that he minded. In fact, he’d been more than happy to help Bruce raise the ray of sunshine that had been Richard Grayson. He’d been almost Bruce’s opposite. Open, bright, and determined to be happy, no matter how much of his own trauma he had on his own shoulders. Sometimes Alfred was afraid that that determination would turn into something deadly. Something that would get him or Bruce killed at some point.

He had only been a boy, after all, and boys aren’t known for their caution.

And of course, Alfred had been right.

The details are fuzzy all these years later, especially after Jason’s untimely passing and subsequent resurrection took the forefront of worry in his mind.

However, Alfred knows that he can never forget someone like Richard Grayson.

Bruce, he knows, will never forget Richard, either, though perhaps different reasons. Where Alfred will remember a hyperactive child running through the halls of the manor, sliding down the banisters, swinging from the chandeliers, Bruce will remember the first Robin, the soldier he’d help create, Nightwing, the fights.

Bruce will remember what he thinks is his own failings.

The odd thing, though, is the way Bruce is acting. Alfred notices the moment they enter the study that it’s not grief sitting heavy upon Bruce’s shoulders, it’s anger. And while that’s not an emotion Alfred is unfamiliar with when it comes to Bruce, it’s odd that whenever Richard is mentioned in his memories, Bruce reacts the same way as he does when Jason’s death is mentioned.

And yet, it’s different now.

And Alfred himself, he feels sad, but not impossibly sad. He remembers what it feels like, to have a weight sitting on his chest, crushing his lungs and making it hard to breathe. But when Alfred thinks of Richard’s grinning face, all he has is the urge to bake a batch of chocolate cookies and wait in the kitchen for a boy who will never come home again.

“I’m going out,” Bruce announces, and Alfred follows him to the door, helping Bruce into a coat. There’s no need to ask where Bruce is going on such short notice, seeing as he goes up to the top of the hill to stare at a grave every time he grieves, but Bruce is agitated, and this isn’t a normal visit.

Alfred hopes, as Bruce walks out the door without a word over his shoulder, that whatever it is that’s happening, it is resolved sooner rather than later.

And something is happening, of that he has no doubt. But for now, he’ll stay here, in the manor, and wait for his children to come home. And he barely dares to think it, but he’ll even wait for all of them, no matter how much heartbreak he’s setting himself up for.

Something’s wrong, Tim thinks.

At first, he’d written off Jason’s ramblings as getting dosed with fear toxin or trying to get back at Bruce or something. Jason’s tried to kill all of them before, so it’s not like it’s hard to imagine Jason doing something horrible.

But it’s also been months since Jason had finally stopped all of that, and for the life of him, Tim can’t remember why. He also can’t get, did Dick fake his death again? out of his head, because there’s something in his chest, and it twists every single time he thinks of those words.

So Tim does what he always does when he’s looking at a particularly hard case: fills a thermos with freshly made coffee and starts breaking things down.

It’s hours later that Damian comes down to the Cave and immediately zeroes in on him. Which is perfect, because despite wanting literally nothing to do with the brat, he’s just what Tim needs right now.

“What are you working on now, Drake?” Damian drawls, seemingly uninterested. But there’s that glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that Tim is actually glad to see for once. But he doesn’t speak, knowing that if he answers now, Damian will refuse to even stay in the room. Damian’s eyebrows scrunch up as he watches Tim type. “Why are you looking into old case files from fifteen years ago?”

Tim spins his chair around and looks Damian in the eye. “This is top secret.”

Damian scoffs. “Everything we do is top secret, Drake. I’d have thought that you’d have known that by now.”

“I mean secret from Bruce.”

Damian straightens, his shoulders tense up. “What warrants the secrecy?”

Tim leans back and rubs a hand over his face. He’s been staring at the screen too long. “Lots of things. The biggest being that I think Jason’s right and Bruce isn’t, no matter how sure he seems.”

“What are you going on about?” Damian asks. “And what does Todd have to do with it?”

“Who made you Robin?” Tim decides to throw out.

“Father,” Damian tells him automatically, looking irritated. And then his expression turns vicious. “If you think you’re taking back the position—”

“Shut up for a second and just answer my questions, okay?” Tim snaps. “This is actually important, and I only have a little bit of time before Bruce realizes I hacked the cameras.”

Damian, amazingly, shuts up.

“Okay, Bruce was lost in time when you became Robin,” Tim tells him seriously. “So that means it couldn’t have been Bruce that gave you the uniform, because as soon as it was given to you, I left Gotham to go find Bruce.”

Damian opens his mouth, and then shuts it, staring at the floor in some cross of contemplation, confusion, and realization.

“So someone else gave it to you,” Tim says, feeling breathless as that thing in his chest twists again. “Do you know who it was?”

Damian shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet. “No. I can’t remember.”

“You mean you have gaps in your memory,” Tim confirms his hypothesis. “Someone looked out for Gotham with you while I was looking for Bruce and Cass was in Hong Kong and Jason was still having his identity crisis. Someone else was there, and we’re missing him.”

“Who?”

Tim licks his lips and stares at the ground, barely daring to believe that he’s about to say this aloud. “Jason came in here earlier screaming his head off about—well. About the first Robin. Richard Grayson. I thought he was having a mental breakdown or something, but now—"

“He died,” Damian says, his eyes on the cases in the corner when Tim looks back up. His brows are furrowed and there’s a quiet horror in his voice. “Richard Grayson is dead, but there’s no memorial for him. But there’s one for Todd. Todd has been revived and Father still won’t take it down.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, his heart fluttering in his chest as he thinks about it and the pieces start to come together. There’s something in him that hurts, and it shouldn’t, and he thinks that’s what solidifies this. It’s not supposed to hurt like this when he’s never even met the guy “Combine all of it together, it points to one thing.”

Damian looks him in the eye, and Tim can barely breathe anymore.

“It means Jason’s right,” Tim whispers. “Dick Grayson is alive.”

“Are you sure?” Wally asks from the other end of the line for the fifth damn time. “I mean, why would they forget and not us?”

Jason makes an irritated noise into his phone, cradling it between his shoulder and his cheek as he looks through his case files for clues. For something he might have missed. “They didn’t forget. They think he’s dead. Two different things here, West.”

“But still,” Wally says, and Jason can hear the frown in his voice, “that doesn’t make any sense. Especially if they’re saying he died before even you did.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jason snaps. He grabs the phone with one hand and straightens up, the other hand ruffling his own hair in his irritation. “Dick’s not showing up anywhere and suddenly the whole damn family thinks he’s dead? You think I don’t know that’s weird?!”

“Calm down, Jason. I’m just saying—”

“It’s insane!” Jason yells, pushing himself to his feet. “And for some reason it’s only them! If I hadn’t gone over there, no one would even…be….”

Jason freezes, the gears in his head turning over and over as he tries to think through this. If Jason hadn’t needed Dick last night, it might have been days before someone had realized that the Waynes thought Dick was dead. Meaning no one would be out looking for him until it was too late.

“Oh god,” Jason says, horror twisting his stomach painfully. “Someone took him.”

“What?” Wally asks, his voice actually quiet for once in his life. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about it,” Jason tells him. “Someone went through the trouble of altering the memories of the people that Dick are publicly connected to, and only the people he’s publicly connected to. You, me, Roy, Clark. We weren’t affected by whatever it was, but we’re not in constant contact with him, either. Bruce and Tim are.”

“So what are you saying?” Wally wonders. There’s some kind of murmuring and rustling in the background, but Jason is barley paying attention.

“I’m saying that Tim and Bruce and Alfred didn’t just happen to think Dick was dead, and they’re the ones that Dick has constant public contact with,” Jason tells him. “Which means that someone did this, and they’re probably just buying time to get something from Dick. They took him.”

Wally’s silent for almost a moment, and Jason feels a flutter of irritation rise up in his gut again. If he’s right, if someone’s just trying to stall for time, that means that they don’t have much of it to find Dick. From the way this is set up, this isn’t supposed to be a permanent situation. Not everyone was brain-washed into thinking Dick’s dead, which probably can mean two things.

One, it’s like Jason told Wally. Whoever took Dick is stalling for time, which would suggest that they want information and Dick isn’t giving it up easily. It’d make sense, given the circumstances and who Dick was trained by.

Two, the person didn’t have the juice. Whatever mind melding powers they have might not be powerful enough to affect the entire world.

Jason’s money is on both.

“Okay,” Wally says, and Jason startles back to the present. “Okay, I’m on my way over.”

“You’re what?” Jason asks, but before he can really even blink, Wally’s there. In the middle of his apartment. Making half the papers on his table fly up into the air from the force of his speed. Jason jams the end call button on his phone harder than necessary. “How the hell do you even know where I live?!”

“Dick,” Wally says, pulling out his own phone. He scrolls through his contacts, settles on a name, and puts it on speaker.

“Who are you calling?” Jason asks, his brow crumpling, making a mental note to chew Dick out later for giving Wally his address if they find him.

When, he chastises himself. When they find him.

But Wally doesn’t answer. Instead, the person on the other end picks up, and it’s Barbara who says a in a soft and somewhat confused voice, “Hello?”

“Hey, Barbara,” Wally says easily.

But his shoulders are tense and his eyes are troubled, and he kind of looks like Dick does sometimes, when he wants to make it seem like nothing’s bothering him because he’s a giant masochist. Wally’s doesn’t seem to be doing it for that, though. Jason thinks that Wally doesn’t want to give away just how much shit they’re actually in. At least, that’s what Jason would do.

“Wally. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Wally says, setting the phone down on the table and leaning on the back of a chair. “He was in Gotham last night, and he was wearing a Nightwing suit.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Babs says, “Is this some kind of sick joke? Because if it is—”

“It’s not,” Jason cuts in. “Honest, Barbara. We’re telling the truth.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Come on, Babs,” Wally says, his voice soft. “You know what the suit means to me. To all of us. Will you please help us?”

“Fine,” Barbara tells them, her voice steely. “I’ll look. But if this turns into some prank, I’m setting Cass on the both of you and you can forget about any support from me for an entire year.”

The three of them fall quiet, and for a long time, almost two or three minutes, Jason thinks, there’s absolutely no noise beside the small clicks of the keyboard on Barbara’s end of the line. A sharp intake of breath breaks the silence, though, and Jason finds himself leaning over the phone.

“What?” he demands. “What is it?”

“You guys were right,” Barbara says. “Corner of Fourth and Main, 2:17 am.”

“Is he doing anything weird?”

“He’s just…sitting on the roof.” Jason ignores the quiet waver to Barbara’s voice, but he appreciates when she takes a deep breath and seems to find her calm. Good. Jason’s not sure he can handle anything like a break down from her, right now. He’s already so close to the edge himself, being one of the only people to believe that Dick is even alive.

Barbara takes another breath, and then there’s more typing.

Jason’s fists clench. “What’s going on now?”

“Do you have your laptop open?” Barbara asks. “And on?”

Jason swivels around, looking over at his coffee table, where his laptop’s plugged in and open to his desktop screen. He doesn’t use it for much since it’s a cheap old thing he got for a couple hundred bucks and sucks at running more than three programs at once. “Yes? Why?”

“I’m sending you the video footage from last night,” Barbara says. “I’ll help you take this guy down, but I need you two to figure this out where he is by yourself. I can’t—that uniform is—”

“Got it,” Wally says. “Thanks, Barbara.”

“Just figure this out, West,” Barbara says, and then there’s a click, and the line goes dead. She hung up.

At the same time, Jason’s email pings annoyingly, and he plops down on the couch, opens his browser up to access his account, and clicks on the new email from Babs. It’s a few videos, different angles of Dick sitting on a rooftop last night, the same rooftop that he and Jason were supposed to meet at. Dick was almost an hour early, though, and Jason thinks that maybe that had been his downfall.

It’s as they’re watching the first video, though, that something weird happens. One minute, Dick is sitting on the ledge of the roof, and the next, he’s crumpling backwards, like a puppet with his strings cut.

“What the—” Jason starts to say, but Wally leans over his shoulder from the back of the couch, and when Jason turns to look at him, his green eyes are wide.

“Play it back.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I thought I saw something.”

Jason plays it back, and they watch Dick crumple again, and this time, even though Jason knows it’s coming, he barley holds back a wince as he watches Dick fall unconscious seemingly unprompted. He pauses it afterwards, and turns to Wally.

“Well?” he asks.

Wally shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Wally breathes. “I thought I saw a person, but it’s not there anymore.”

Jason unpauses the video, and they keep watching.

Nothing else happens for a few minutes, just Dick unconscious on the rooftop, and then the camera goes black for almost ten seconds, and when it cuts back in, Dick’s gone. Checking the other videos reveal the exact same thing, and Jason shuts his laptop in frustration, scrubbing at his hair.

“That was absolutely no help,” Jason snaps.

Wally sighs, forearms resting on the back of the couch. “I mean, it gives us a place to look, right?”

“I guess,” Jason says, but he feels sort of sick. He’d told Tim that he was going to prove that Dick was alive, and all he has to go on are a couple of tampered videos and the fact that only the people closest to him seem to think he’s dead. “God, this is so messed up.”

“Yeah,” Wally agrees, and he looks as tired as Jason feels. “So what do we do now? Do we go out and look for him?”

“It’s like three in the afternoon,” Jason snorts. “I don’t know how it works in Keystone, but we don’t go in the daytime, West.”

“I know that but—”

Jason’s phone rings, then, and Wally cuts off. One glance at his caller ID, though, has Jason furrowing his brow in confusion. He answers with a hesitant, “Tim?”

“I believe you,” Tim says immediately. “Dick’s alive. I believe you.”

Jason sags back into the couch. “What made you change your mind.”

“Things aren’t adding up.” Tim pauses, and there’s some murmuring on Tim’s side. Sounds kind of like arguing, and Jason thinks that Tim might be there with Damian of all people, calling Jason. Geez, when Dick disappears, the Bats go to crazy town, don’t they? Tim blows out a breath. “Okay, meet me and Damian on that rooftop where Dick disappeared in an hour.”

Tim hangs up, then, and knowing Tim, Jason thinks he probably hacked his way into the cameras, too. From what Jason knows about him, Tim’s almost as good as Barbara is when it comes to technology.

So Jason saves the question for later, looks up at Wally, and says, “Suit up,”

It looks like they’ve got a stray bird to rescue.

Dick’s been here for a while. Long enough that someone should have noticed by now that he’s been gone too long and come looking for him.

During his stay down here in Sewerville, Dick’s pretty sure the voice has managed to half kill him without even letting Dick seem them. There’s blood pouring from every part of his body, he’s bruised and beaten, and his voice is wrecked from constantly screaming. He feels like he’s about to die, and he thinks that the only two reasons he’s even still alive is because one, his captor hasn’t gotten their information, and two, he still has that little bit of faith that someone will find him. That Bruce will find him. No matter what the voice keeps telling him.

But after the first few hours of mouthing off, Dick’s wrist gets crushed and he’s half-strangled to death, and his words become few and far apart, until he finally stops talking altogether. After that time passes by in bits and pieces. One minute he’s alone, the next he’s getting electrocuted. One minute he’s getting stabbed with a knife, the next he’s by himself again. It skips and pauses, like an old record, and Dick can’t seem to hold onto it for more than maybe an hour at a time.

That’s bad, he thinks, but he can’t remember why.

Right now, though, there’s a bigger problem to worry about. Namely, the syringe being plunged into his arm. Dick cries out as it breaks the needle breaks the skin and the contents injected into his veins.

“What was that?” Dick calls out hoarsely. “What did you just give me?”

“Tell me what you know,” the voice demands for the millionth time. “Tell me what you know and I’ll let you go. This will all be over with.”

Dick chest heaves for precious, precious air as he stares up at the ceiling, and he’s not going to cry, but he can’t help it when his voice cracks a little when he says, “I already told you, I don’t know.”

“You must know something.”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“I don’t believe that the first Robin doesn’t know where the Justice League Headquarters are. You must know.” The syringe clatters to the ground. “And that serum will help you waggle your tongue.”

Dick shivers. “I don’t know where it is. I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” the voice hisses, and Dick flinches away from the voice. “You’re lying. Because I’ve seen you in it. I just need to know how to access it. That’s all you have to tell me and you’ll be free.”

“Even if I did know,” Dick says, trying his best to keep his voice calm and steady, “I would never tell you.”

“We’ll see how you feel after the serum runs its course,” the voice cackles. “Have a nice sleep, Bat Brat.”

Dick’s vision wavers, and his last thought before everything goes dark is, Please let Bruce find me. Please.

#dick grayson #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #tim drake #bruce wayne #damian wayne #wally west #dc #love ya toni #camryn writes

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