By the time he got back from the funeral Dick didn't have any tears left to cry. He left the graveyard after Alfred, Tim and Barbara but before Bruce—Dick had wanted to be alone with the body but if anyone deserved privacy more than he did it was Bruce. Dick new that. That's why he was back in his little downtown apartment, leaning against the door as he loosened his tie.

He had taught Damian how to tie a bowtie.

The tie made a sliiinking sound as he tugged it from his collar and thew it to the ground. Then Dick pushed himself off the door, shrugging off his jacket and collapsing onto the couch in one motion.

For days now, memories of Damian had fallen upon him like a barrage. The way he wrinkled his nose when he was displeased. The time he'd dressed Dick's head wound in the middle of a battle and then dragged him to safety. The first time he'd said "Thank you." Even the first time he'd tried to hurt Tim, or been rude to Alfred. The good and the bad, the funny and the sweet, like an endless B-roll streaming through his brain.

Now, though, there was nothing. Dick had no more thoughts, and no more tears. Just sadness. He pulled a pillow off the floor and pressed it to his head.

He didn't know how long it was until he realized someone was knocking at the door.

"Go away," Dick mumbled.

The knocking persisted. Dick groaned. "Please go away."

No one responded except to continue knocking, the raps sharper and more insistent than before. Finally Dick heaved himself off the couch and staggered to the door. "Who—" He opened the door and frowned. The landing was empty.

But still he heard knocking. Dick looked around his apartment, then went to the windows. He opened one. "Bruce?"

No answer.

"Barbara? Tim? Are you out there?"

There was no one outside. Not even any new grappling hook marks on his windowsill. But still he heard knocking.

Dick pulled his head back from the window and turned on the spot, staring at all four walls of his apartment. Then he turned again—and saw another fourth wall. And a little fist, pounding on the white lines between the panels.

"Finally," said Damian, as he hopped through the panel and landed lightly on Dick's living room floor.

Dick's jaw dropped.

"Damian."

The boy straightened, and crossed his arms. "Grayson."

"You're dead."

"Yes, I noticed," said Damian, wrinkling his nose. "And I am not pleased."

"Not pl—Oh my God—" Dick all but lunged at Damian, dropping to his knees as he threw his arms around him. "Oh my God," he muttered, his face pressed to Damian's head. "Damian..."

"Tt," snorted Damian, half his face buried in Dick's shoulder. "I thought you'd act this way." His brow smoothed, though as he patted Dick on the back. "I appreciate your affection."

Dick couldn't help himself—he laughed. "Jesus, Damian," he said, pulling back to look the boy in the eyes. "What—what is this? I...How are you here?"

"No Lazarus pits or anything," Damian assured him. "I am in fact dead in this world."
"Yeah, I...I know. So...?"

Damian raised an eyebrow. "...So, I've decided to start a new one. And I'd like you to accompany me."

Dick rocked back on his heels. "Hm. I don't understand."

Damian sighed. "I have been killed. You saw the body. The decision was made, and it happened, and as far as I know there's nothing we can do about it. In this reality, I am dead. So, I choose to reject this reality. We can go back to the way things were, in a different one. The way they were even before this one, I mean."

He clasped Dick's forearm and smiled up at him, his dark eyes bright.

Dick merely gaped.

Damian made a frustrated tutting noise with his teeth. "Really, Grayson, I know it's harder to understand from this side of the panels, but it's really not as difficult as you're making it out to be. You and I are going to go resume our duties as Batman and Robin in a different reality. I was thinking Earth-2. I have a friend from there, and she informs me that on this Earth, Bruce Wayne never had relations with Talia al-Ghul and both are already dead. Although quite sad, I believe it will be easier to fight crime in a world where the Batman is already an established but absent figure, rather than starting over in a world that has never heard of him."

Dick put a hand on Damian's shoulder and rubbed his eyes with his other. "That almost makes sense."

"I was thinking we could call it 'The New Twenty-Two.'"

"Okay. Okay, okay." Dick got to his feet. "Let's sit on the couch and you explain the name to me. Wait—" He bent down and kissed Damian on the top of the head. "Okay, come sit."

With an expression of patient suffering, Damian dragged his fingers through his mussed hair and sat down on the couch. Dick sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Damian scowled. "Really, Grayson? Wasn't the kiss enough?"

"Shut up. What does 'New Twenty-Two' mean?"

"Well, there's you and me, that's two. But I'd also need to bring Titus, Bat-Cow, Alfred the cat, and five other cats I've picked up in this reality that I was keeping in the Wayne Mansion attic. That's eight, which brings us to ten. We'll also need to bring the heroes known here as Huntress and Powergirl, as they were originally from Earth-2 and I promised I'd help them get back if I was ever able. They might have to keep their new names, though, because I've also invited Kara Zor-El. She's a maybe. Then Barbara Gordon, for whom I understand you've professed a preference in multiple realities. She might be difficult to convince but I think she'll come with us when she finds out that we're also going to pick up Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain on our way. Oh, and we can pick up Wallace West, too. I think that should please you. Plus two children named Lian and Colin. That brings us to nineteen. The last three slots are only maybes. I'd like Pennyworth to come...and Father too, if he would. But if he'd prefer to stay in this reality I would understand. There are only so many Batmen to go around. And the final slot..." Damian ground his teeth. "The final slot is for Timothy Drake, should he wish to take it. I thought you might be more willing to come with me if I let Drake come too." He looked up at Dick and raised a finger. "If he comes, I'll need him to formally renounce any claims to the Wayne estate or the Batman mantle. I would also like him to be a little less awful, but I understand that no reality is perfect, even when we're making it ourselves."

Dick wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. He did anyway. And then once he started he found he couldn't stop. He threw back his head and howled until his sides, still bruised and stitched from the battle with Leviathan, began to ache anew.

Damian waited patiently, Dick's arm still around his shoulder, though an expression of concern began to cross his face. "I'm afraid I can't offer you any proof, Grayson, but trust me that everything I'm saying is entirely possible. And even if Gordon and Drake decide not to come there are alternate versions of them on Earth-2. I checked. And that Gordon is single." Damian looked up at him searchingly. "I understand you might have affairs to settle but I'd like to be going as soon as possible. I'm not really supposed to be here anymore.

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry, Damian." Dick wiped a tear from his eyes. "Oh boy."

Damian's scowl deepened. "What's your hesitation? It isn't Todd, is it? Or Starfire, maybe? I can ask them, I'll get whoever. I know I'm asking a lot, but I just thought...that you would want to be with me. But if you'd rather stay here..."

"Damian!" Dick clapped him on the shoulder, then hugged him. "I'm sorry. This is just...unexpected, is all."

"Well, come on already!" Damian crossed his arms. "Just tell me if you'll come or not!"

Dick looked down at him. Damian's face was flushed and dark, his thin chest rising and falling just a bit faster than he'd have liked to admit. Dick inhaled, then exhaled deeply. Then he smiled. "When do we leave?"