Notes: The oneshot that we sorta figured needed to be written too. This one comes right after Choices.

Bruce trudged through the hallway of the Wayne Tower penthouse, feeling the night's aches and pains of fighting more than a dozen of Hurt's lackeys, a close escape, Alfred's rescue, and a chase in the dark that would culminate in the arrest of his most frequent enemy. On top of all that, he worried for his eldest who had been shot in the head as a prelude to the fight with those lackeys.

He'd managed to push his anxiety to the back of his mind in favor of taking back the reins from his insane relative. But now that the current crisis was over and Gotham was starting to pick up the pieces once again, he found his worry return tenfold to the point where it was almost drowning out the voice that said, 'Dick will be fine. He's gone through worse.'

But he had faith in the training he'd given Dick, and he had faith in his eldest's skills. Nightwing would never have been given leadership of the Justice League if he'd been somehow lacking. And yet the worry nagged at him, until he decided to travel to the penthouse suite to check up on his son.

Sons, he corrected himself as he passed Damian in the hallway. The younger boy walked stiffly past without acknowledging him - it wasn't a surprise considering how he'd only met the boy a few times before his unwanted trip through time. But Dick had managed to worm his way past the boy's walls, forming a partnership as seamless as Bruce had first had with Dick; and now Bruce will have to see if he can pry past those same walls as well.

It was a thought for another day.

"Master Bruce," Alfred greeted softly when he came to Dick's door. "Master Dick is still awake and waiting for you. Do remind him that his headache will ease when he sleeps and not before?"

Bruce inwardly smirked at the butler's sarcastic wit. This might be surprise to some, but he'd missed Alfred's commentary in the time he'd been lost. Not that he'll ever admit it. "I'll try my best, but you know how he seldom listens to me anymore."

Alfred sighed in resignation. "Ah, no matter. I know just the thing to convince the boy otherwise." And he walked past Bruce as well, probably off to prepare a cup of hot chocolate for Dick.

The smile made its way to Bruce's lips now, as he recalled that to Alfred, both he and Dick were still boys - his boys - and that a cup of hot chocolate had frequently been the butler's favorite bribe to convince a frightened acrobat that the nightmares were less scary when shared. Bruce suspected some of those cups had been laced with a mild sedative, considering how fast Dick dropped to sleep in some cases.

Enough daydreaming, Bruce reprimanded himself and quietly pushed the door open. Dulled blue eyes blinked up at him as Dick smiled a greeting, "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Bruce walked into the room and sat at the chair to the left of the bed. Dick's injury had been near the base of the skull, and kept him from lying down on his back. The younger man had taken to lying on his side instead. "Is there...how are...things?"

Dick's smile turned into a sleepy grin. "Awkward as ever, huh Bruce? Couldn't even admit you were worried about me?"

Bruce defended himself, "Alfred said the surgery went well."

"So it did. Still," Dick's brows furrowed in a familiar expression of pain, "I'll be fine, Bruce. I've had worse."

"I know."

The grin came back, still less than Dick's usual one thousand wattage grins. "I missed you, you know. We all did, even Damian."

That drew a raised eyebrow of surprise. "I didn't think I had that big an impression on him."

"Talia's been telling him stories about your cases. Turned you into something of a legend, something worthy of memorializing," Dick snorted and winced when that aggravated his wound. "She didn't tell him of the case where you let a thief go so he could live the rest of his life with his daughter, of the case where you remembered to return a little girl's stolen doll to her," he smiled up at Bruce, "or of the case where you took in an orphaned acrobat and trained him to be your partner."

"Talia's priorities are different." Bruce remarked.

"Sure," Dick said dismissively, "Doesn't matter anyway. Damie's a good kid. He's-" blue eyes sharpened and snapped to him as something must have occurred to Dick, "you...don't know, do you?"

"About what?"

"About..." To Bruce's panic, Dick started to raise himself off the bed. "About...dust..."

Bruce was quick to push the younger man down as he ordered, "Lie back down. I'm sure I can handle the dust in the Manor and the Cave." Alfred had told him that Dick had decided to temporarily put both Cave and Manor in lockdown. The decision hadn't surprised Bruce at all; he'd known how Dick felt about his childhood home ever since he'd first taken the boy in. Dick, who'd spent the first decade of his life in a cramped trailer, had often commented on how big the Manor was and that sometimes, it felt 'too much'. That Bruce couldn't resume being Batman the minute he returned had been expected.

It doesn't explain why Dick was still trying to get off the bed. The younger man's face was beginning to shine from sweat as he strained against Bruce's hand. "Have to...show you..."

"Grayson, what are you doing?"

Startled at the sudden voice, Dick fell back onto bed. Bruce turned to find Damian frowning by the doorway and in his arms a blanketed bundle - a wiggling bundle.

"Damie," Dick said with relief. While Bruce pondered at the wiggling bundle Damian was holding, Dick reached out and made grabby hands at it.

"He refused to sleep without seeing you." Damian announced haughtily as though he couldn't care less whether the bundle slept or not, but he proceeded into the room and held out the bundle to Dick.

"He just missed me," Dick said, taking the bundle as Damian quietly left the room. He carefully unwrapped the blanket and revealed...

Bruce couldn't stifle the gasp as he stared at a tiny version of his eldest. Bright blue eyes stared at him curiously as Dick cradled the baby in the crook of his arm.

"Hey, Dusty," Dick crooned at the baby before turning to Bruce. "Bruce, I'd like you to meet Dusty, well, Dustin. My son."

Dusty, who hadn't taken his eyes away from the new person, gave Bruce a big grin and showed off his one growing tooth.

Bruce worked his mouth but no sound came out. All the words seemed to be stuck in his lungs. Here was his eldest, holding a baby - his boy's baby. Bruce had come back to find out that his boy had had a baby. A baby.

Dick grinned at him. "Great impression of a goldfish, Bruce."

The older man forcefully shut his mouth with a snap and tried again. "Who...when...how?"

Dick's gaze lowered as he stroked the fine hairs on the baby's head. "Cheyenne Freemont. She...she had him while she was in California. She came to Gotham a few months ago to hand Dusty to me."

What came out of Bruce's throat next was half-strangled because all he kept seeing in his mind was Talia and the sudden appearance of Damian in his life. But he'd done a background check on Cheyenne Freemont and her record came up clean as opposed to Damian's mother. But she was pregnant with Dick's kid while Dick was...undercover, busy, incommunicado, recovering. So many words but they all came down to the same conclusion: Cheyenne Freemont was pregnant and had given birth all without Dick knowing.

Like Talia grew Damian and hid him from Bruce.

Bruce swallowed and asked, "Where is she now?"

Dick refused to meet his gaze as he answered, "She's gone, Bruce. Barry and Buddy Pierce killed her."

All the breath left Bruce in a whoosh. To suddenly find yourself a father and then to shortly lose the mother...Bruce couldn't imagine how it felt. He and Dick both shared devastating losses sometime in their lives but to toss in a child on top of it? He could imagine the confusion of emotions when Damian found him but he'd always had a crisis to pay attention to. He could compartmentalize his emotions in favor of working as the Bat.

But Dick couldn't. Dick felt deeply and wore his heart on his sleeve; no matter how many challenges and hurts thrown at him, Dick still had that inner light that kept Bruce from falling into despair. This might just douse that light in his eldest son.

Or, judging by the fond smile Dick turned on the baby, it could ignite that light to blazing levels.

The baby - Dusty, Dick called him - managed to squirm his arms out of the blanket and flailed at the air. Bruce instinctively grabbed one arm and Dusty immediately stopped to stare at him curiously. Then he proceeded to tug Bruce's hand into his mouth.

"Ah-ah, Dusty," Dick gently removed Bruce's arm from the baby's grip.

Bruce was about to comment on the baby's starting to frown when he noticed the slight tremble in Dick's hand. By the pinched expression on Dick's face, Bruce realized that it was past time his eldest went to sleep.

He got to his feet and bent down to pick up the baby. "I'll take him. Go to sleep. You need to rest."

Damian chose that moment to re-enter the room and took the baby from Bruce before he could blink. "No need, Father. I will take Dustin to his crib."

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, knowing how rough the boy could be, but Dick swiftly cut him off before he managed a peep.

"Thanks, kiddo, and don't forget that you need to go on to bed. It's been a rough day for everyone."

The ten-year old rolled his eyes, but didn't argue as he took his nephew through the door and out of sight.

"Dick," Bruce spoke up. "Are you sure it's a good idea for Damian to- you know, be handling the baby?"

"You'd be surprised, Bruce." Dick replied lightly as he settled back down on the bed. "Damian is great with Dusty- gentle too. He really loves the little guy, but I think he just doesn't know how to express it." The younger man shot Bruce a slightly mischievous grin. "In fact, it reminds me of someone else I know."

Bruce immediately drew himself up in affront. "I've handled babies before, Dick."

"Sure, but 24/7 over an extended period of time?" Dick chuckled, his eyes closing. "Trust me, Damie's watched over and played with Dusty more than once while you were gone. All we had was each other."

The younger man's shoulders slowly relaxed and Bruce found himself once again at a loss for words. It was true; he'd been gone for a year, and even the few days he spent checking on those he'd left behind weren't enough to show him everything. He wasn't there when Cheyenne Freemont came to Gotham to present his eldest with a baby. He wasn't there to see if Damian had truly bonded with the infant. And he wasn't there to help with the many responsibilities of raising a small life.

But he was here now, and he will help when asked. He owed it to Dick - both for keeping Gotham safe and for guiding Damian.

Bruce pulled up the blanket to tuck his eldest in - really, how many times had he done this for Dick years ago? - and silently left the room. The younger man must really be in pain to fall asleep without a last minute joke or two.

Apparently, Bruce spoke too soon as just as he swung the door open, Dick called for him.

He turned back with a raised eyebrow.

"Good night," Dick greeted him sleepily, "Grandpa Bruce."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at his eldest but Dick had already closed his eyes and relaxed into sleep. So he shook his head and left the room with a soft, "Night, Dick."

Alfred met him just outside Dick's room. "Has the young Master fallen asleep?"

"Just about."

"Ah," the butler nodded in understanding. "The trouble with stubborn Bats in the face of injury. He well takes after you, sir."

Bruce couldn't dignify that with a concrete answer so he merely said, "Hn."

"Master Damian has already returned Master Dustin to his crib," Alfred reported, "and I do believe he has taken to reading children's books to Master Dustin."

Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Damian...reads children's books?"

"Only for Master Dustin." The butler aimed a fond smile at the closed door to Dick's room. "Master Dick has well-convinced him the merits of reading bedtime stories for young children and of age-appropriate titles." There was a sparkle in the butler's eyes as he admitted, "It is, however, of my belief that the younger Master is similarly entertained by these children's stories."

"I can believe that," Bruce agreed with a sigh. "Talia wasn't known for being a doting mother."

"'Tis the hazards of being the lone heir to a large empire."

Bruce gave him a sharp look but the butler didn't show the slightest hint of a smirk. Of course, Alfred had long gotten his subtle jibes in as Bruce was growing up; even more so now that he'd taken up a crusade against crime. But that doesn't mean he was going to take them quietly.

"I wasn't as bad as that."

"Perhaps not," Alfred relented, "you weren't as outspoken, but you were quite the tenacious one. I do believe young Peter never quite forgot how you herded him into the mud pit so you could win the race."

"His mother was the one who chose the path for the race." He said defensively.

"True, and that was the only reason why he never complained of your method of winning."

Bruce sighed and decided to change the topic. He never could win against Alfred - well, almost never. "So you think Damian's good for Dus-Dustin?"

"Indeed, sir. The boy has been quite protective of his nephew." A fond smile graced the butler's face. "Master Dick challenged him into being a 'good' uncle."

He had to blink at that. "Really."

"Really. Master Dick has learned how to thoroughly engage the boy's attention in your absence. You would have been proud of him, Master Bruce."

"I already am," he sighed, glancing at the closed door of his eldest's bedroom. "Is the master suite available?"

"Of course, sir. I took the liberty of preparing the room while you saw to the mess at the Manor."

"Good," he sighed again, feeling the twinges of tiredness in his sore muscles return. It wasn't a long drive back to the Manor but... "I'll be staying here then. At least, until the Manor's cleaned up." His family was here. And he still had to get a full report from Dick.

It was good to be back where his family is.