"Jason?"

"Bad time, Dick. I'm busy." The Red Hood didn't even turn away from his computer as I slid into the space. His fingers were moving with practiced agility; his screen displayed familiar faces: Two-Face, the Riddler and Poison Ivy.

"Jason… We need to talk."

"You never take the hint, do you? Get out." Jason stopped typing and turned on me. He was angry; well, angrier than usual. Something must have happened with Artemis then… That didn't bode well with what I was about to tell him. Luck had never really been on Jason's side though.

"It's about Tim." Jason's eyes locked on mine but he feigned nonchalance. Neither of us bought it for a second.

"What? Did he bite off more than he can chew? And needs the "big brother birds" to come save his butt? For being so smart, he can be really stupid sometimes."

I sighed. The tears still wouldn't come, and I hated myself for that fact, but… given what we'd all lived through, it wasn't much of a surprise. I didn't know how Jason would react, but rage was to be expected. I still hadn't decided if I'd let him hit me or not. I felt the hesitation that had slowed me on my way here; the lump in my throat, holding back the necessary words. But I forced the words past it. I had to, if I was ever going to say it. "Tim is dead."

The words exploded into reality, somehow making the fact more real. I had repeated it to myself, trying to make sense of the words when I'd first heard them, but this time the words had a whole new weight to them. The physical force of them almost dropped me to my knees as effectively as a blow from a Krpytonian would. But I held my footing, and my eyes held Jason's.

I watched his eyes as he flicked through the phases, processing my nuke. Denial: clearly it wasn't true. It couldn't be. Tim was too smart. Bargaining: we can bring him back, we brought all of the others back. Anger: how could this happen? Who could have…. And, as it often did for Jason, the grieving process ended there. Jason's eyes became slits, and his shoulders widened. He vented power, raw, destructive force.

"Where is Bruce?" The question was asked, each word like a blow. But I couldn't deny him this.

"He's at the cave."

Of course I followed him. I had too. He didn't even try to shake me. He didn't even try to be evasive. He went straight there. Bruce was waiting for him, sitting in his computer chair, staring at the glass case that contained the Red Robin costume.

"You let him die."

"Jason…"

"And don't give me that […], that it was "his choice", that he "made the decision". That he "understood the risks". You set him on this path Bruce, and now, he has met the same fate that all of us have. And he did it because of you! He did it to make you proud of him. And I hope you are PROUD! I hope you are PROUD that you have buried your son! Heck, you've buried ALL of your sons!"

I winced at that point. Both because it hurt….and because it was true.

"And Tim…." Jason lapsed into silence. A pause that Bruce tried to fill.

"Tim—"

"DON'T! Don't speak his name!" Jason's rage was beyond anything I'd ever seen before, including when he'd confronted Bruce about not killing the Joker. It was irrational, and while anger was nothing new for the Red Hood, irrationality definitely was. "Tim Drake is a better hero, a better detective, than you will ever be! He was the smartest and the bravest of us all! But there was something that made Drake truly different than all of us. Tim chose this! More than the rest of us ever could."

Bruce watched Jason as he moved to the case, placing a hand on the glass. An odd smirk seemed to form on his lips. "You took Dick in when he was nine. And you offered him a shot at revenge on the men who killed his parents. How could he have known? What other option did he have? You brought me out of a drug-infected stink-hole and offered me the chance to hurt people. What angry kid would say no? Damian is unfortunate enough to be your son, and a murderer at that, and you thought you could change him. In each case, you took a Robin in because you thought you could help him, you thought you could guide him and show him how to uphold your values, how to carry on your quest. But Tim… Tim Drake joined this crazy crusade because he wanted to help you. He saw your need and he tried to fill it, first by asking Dick to go back to being Robin, but when that didn't work, Tim took on the role himself. He didn't do it for revenge, or hope, or anything selfish. He did it to help you. And this! This is how you repay him?!"

For the first time in my life, I saw Bruce shocked into silence. I admit, without Jason spelling it out like that, Tim's difference from the rest of us had never fully occurred to me. He'd always been different, but we were all different from each other, that was one of the things that made us so strong as a team. But even among the team, Tim had been somewhat of an outlier. Less loyal to Bruce than I am, more independent, somewhat more people-oriented, and clearly more intelligent than the rest of us; Tim, like Alfred, helped to hold us all together. And the crushing weight hit my chest. How can we go on without him?

No one spoke for a long moment. But finally, Jason was ready to take up again. "How did he die?"

Bruce blinked. I knew he was struggling with the emotions that Tim's loss brought up. Emotions that he had never truly been able to deal with since he'd first experienced them with the loss of his own parents. The hesitation was more than Jason could take. He turned on our mentor, gripping the handles on the chair and he screamed in his face, "TELL ME!"

Bruce did not react. He merely closed his eyes. "Drones were being dispatched to murder multiple targets throughout the city. They could not be shut down until they accomplished their mission. They couldn't be stopped. There weren't enough of us to save everyone. Tim was sent to try and turn them off."

"He turned them on himself." The words were a whisper. The reality of Tim's actions, his selflessness, his bravery. My heart swelled and then cracked.

"He went to the roof and confronted a volley of drones, and miraculously, he defeated them. A few broken bones, severe burns. He knew he was in shock, but he could still stand. He survived. ..But there was a second wave. I ran…I tried to reach him in time. I couldn't."

Jason took a moment, processing this. "You were too late. Again."

Something in Bruce shifted. "Is this what you want, Jason? You want me to admit that I was wrong? That I am a failure? You want me to tell you that I killed Tim?" Bruce's face was stone as he spoke the last sentence.

"I want you to tell me that it matters that he's gone."

"Jason…" I pulled out of the shadows now, unable to hold back. I knew what Jason was pushing for. And I knew that Bruce couldn't deliver. Pushing it all would only make it worse, harder. But Bruce stopped me, holding up a hand.

"Of course it matters. My son is dead."

"And what are you doing about it?" Jason's eyes were like lasers. "You haven't cried. There hasn't been a funeral. All you've done is stare at this case and hate yourself! Have you even told Damian?"

"Told me what?" Robin's voice echoed down from the stairs. From his location, I could tell that he had actually just arrived and hadn't been eavesdropping in the hidey-holes of the cave. Without prompt I motioned for Damian to stay where he was and began moving towards him. As always, Damian completely ignored me and began coming towards us. Bruce and Jason watched me move past, their eyes moving between me and Damian as I met with the boy and, despite his protests, ushered him upstairs and into the mansion.

Damian resisted as I pushed him into the hall and closed the door to the cave, sliding the clock back into position. "What is this about Grayson? What is going on? Tell me!" His impertinence was lined with something deeper: fear. Even though he honestly didn't know, the fact that no one had told him allowed him to conclude the worst. "Is it mother?"

"Come upstairs Damian. We need to talk."

I watched Dick leave, pushing Damian out ahead of him. I almost asked him to stay. I wasn't afraid of Jason, not after everything. But I didn't want to face this alone. To face him alone. The shame surged through me. Rising, threatening to swallow me. Jason's voice brought me back to the present.

"You didn't even tell him."

"No…."

"Does it bother you at all, Bruce? All these secrets you keep?"

He was trying to goad me, to get a reaction. He probably wanted to fight. Not this time. "The secrets keep you safe."

"How is ignorance keeping Damian safe here?"

"Dick is telling him now."

"So you're outsourcing to your loyal dog."

"Dick is not a dog."

"All he needs is a leash. A son would have a little more agency."

"He left me, Jason. You all left me. If that's not agency, then I don't know what is."

"And that's the problem. You don't know."

Jason's tone carried multiple layers. Several allusions were being made, but I didn't bother to follow them through. I knew what he wanted to hear. "I'm not perfect. I make mistakes."

"Clearly." The words had an edge to them; Jason was coming out to fight. But when he spoke again he seemed deflated. "Tim loved you, you know…"

"I know."

"He accepted you after his parents died."

"I know."

"I don't think that you do. He was happy with them. Unlike the rest of us, Tim knew what it was like to be a happy, normal family. And they died because he was involved with you. Everything bad that has happened to Tim happened because he tried to help you."

The weight of that truth was phenomenal.

"The rest of us…. bad stuff is our life. Dick's parents would have died whether you'd taken him on or not. We both know what my life was like before. And as I said before, Damian was handed a bad deck. But Tim was happy. And he lost it all because of you. Because he cared about you. Because he wanted to help. And even after his parents died, he trusted you enough and accepted you to keep going, to continue on as Robin. He loved you."

"I know."

Jason laughed, but it was heartless. "But there is something you don't know."

My eyes went wide. It was no big shock that Tim kept secrets from me; he was a man after all, but something in Jason's voice… "What is it?"

"Tim was going to quit."

My heart dropped. "What?"

"He and I talked about it two weeks ago. He wanted to hang up the cape and go to University. With his brain, he had the pick of the litter. Stephanie supported the decision. He had it all lined up. The only thing left was to tell you about it."

I struggled to process the information. It resisted me as my mind tried to organize it, to force it into an understandable matrix. "But…"

"Tim never wanted to be Robin forever. He always knew, right from the beginning, that he wouldn't be a hero for the rest of his life. As he said, he'd "serve his time as Robin", and then continue on with his life. He was supposed to tell you. I guess he never got the chance."

A wave of nausea and guilt forced the next words out. "He did get the chance." Jason's eyes tracked mine. "He told me he wanted to talk to me about something, but then we got a call. He tried to say something, he asked me about the new suit, but…."

"What happened?"

"I told him that, to me, he was Robin. I asked him to come back to Gotham…. I told him I was proud of him…"

The silence was a comfort as I fought against the wave of emotions that roiled through me. I sought the inner calm that all of my sensis and gurus had told me to find, the unshakable core of the human, but my core was deeply shaken, and there was no peace. Maybe there never had been. Jason just watched me. My head collapsed into my hands. The tears fought to rise, but something held them back. Alone, I would have cried. Does my pride still mean that much? The sad truth was that it did. My pride was what kept me going.

"In the end…. When he started… I tried to get him to stop… I ordered him inside. I tried to get to him in time." The sensation of running, reliving that moment on the roof, the rain pelting me, as I raced to the belfry. But I couldn't get there in time; it just wasn't possible. "He told me to tell you that he's sorry. That he cared about you all." I still couldn't say it, the one word that defined so much of my life, so much of the negative zone in my life. I still couldn't say the word. Love, Love, Love, Love, Love. But it would not come.

My breathing, inhibited by my hands, became jagged. I looked up from them. Jason was looking at me, tears streaming down his face freely, though he did not sob. "Get up." His words were iron.

And I listened. And I stood. And I waited for the punch to connect. Some part of me told me to close my eyes, but the tactical intellect, the survival instincts, the warrior in me simply could not. So I saw it as Jason's hand curled into a fist and as he pulled back and prepared to strike. As he moved, my body moved on instinct, I slid my weight onto my back foot, preparing to take the blow, Jason was strong and his punches could inflict serious damage. But I felt it as rather than saw it, as two strong arms grabbed me, pulling me into a rough hug.

The sensation startled me. I tried to recoil but he held me firm, and after the initial reaction, I moved in, and I returned the hug, reaching my arms around him and pulling him close. His tears pooled into my shoulder and his breathing jolted his chest unevenly. I pulled him closer. He did not resist.

The hug lasted as long as it needed to, but no longer. Unlike Dick, Jason didn't need hugs as much. But it was nice. It'd been a long time since I'd held Jason. I tried to remember how long. When was the last time I hugged Tim? Tim liked hugs. Jason tried to pull away, but for a moment I pulled him closer. "I am proud of you Jason. And I love you, son."

I don't know where I found the strength to say that, but… Tim knew, didn't he? He must… And Jason would. A certainty in life. I drew comfort from it.

Jason flinched at the words, but he pressed in closer before retracting his arms and stepping away. Both of our eyes turned to the door as Damian and Dick emerged and made their way down the stairs. Both Jason and I took comfort in the fact that neither of them had seen the hug. The thought brought up a strange moment of shame. Why does caring make me feel ashamed?

My remaining sons moved in silence as they made it to the cave floor and then moved towards us. Dick's face was stained with tears. Good. He finally let it out. His hand was draped across Damian's shoulders, holding the boy close as they moved. They stopped in front of us. And I felt the urge to hug Damian. The news had clearly upset him; honestly, more than I thought it would have.

"Father," Damian greeted, his voice stoic. Dick acknowledged us with a nod. And then a pause, as Damian's eyes turned accusatory. He glanced at the case containing Tim's suit and then turned back to me, his eyes boring into me, trying to look through me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The logic was like an instinct. "How would you have reacted?" The feud between Damian and Tim was no secret. Almost everyone in the superhero community knew that there was no love lost between the two, though, perhaps now, there was some respect lost.

"It is no secret that I hated Drake. There were times when I would have killed him myself." Damian hesitated, as Dick's hand gripped the boy's shoulders more firmly. "But…. He… he was my brother… and… and I…" Damian couldn't quite say that he'd miss Tim, but the emotional sentiment in the room was amazingly similar to that idea. "I respected him. And… I want to uphold his legacy."

Damian's confession added a new weight to the day's events. Despite everything, Damian considered them brothers? Or was that Dick's influence? And to uphold his legacy? My mind searched. Damian watched me and smiled the moment he saw I'd come upon the answer.

"Yes, Father. I want the Titans."

"You're too young."

"I am thirteen. They are the Teen Titans, are they not? Besides, 'the Titans aren't the Titans without a Robin to lead them.'"

"Damian…"

"No Father. My mind is set."

"I see." I glanced at Dick, but, instead of glazed eyes that betrayed nothing, he merely shook his head at me. "Tim wanted me to tell you something."

"Bruce…" Jason started. But I went on anyways… I had to. I owed it to Tim.

"He told me to tell all of you that he is sorry. That he loves you all… that he is thankful, that you were his brothers." For a moment I marveled at myself, saying love twice in one day? I noted the tears beginning to well in Dick's eyes again. "And… I know that I rarely say it, never, according to some of you. But… I echo Timothy's sentiments. For everything that I've put you through, for your loss, your pain, your deaths even," the word caught in my throat, "It's my fault. I've ruined your lives." The enormity of that hit me.

Dick released Damian's shoulder and tried to move to me. "Bruce…"

"No, Dick. Don't try to disprove it. I know it's true. Especially for Tim. As Jason said earlier, Tim was happy before he met me, he became Robin to help me, and this is what became of him." This whole confession was very uncharacteristic. Normally, I'd never admit any of this, and if I did, it would be to Alfred, not to my sons, not to the victims of my atrocities, but maybe that's why I had to say it, to say it to the victims, to have them hear it, to have it mean something. "And I'm sorry." I let the words hang. "And… if it means anything to any of you…. You are my sons… and I do….love you…. And, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that I never lose any of you again."

Silence, and then a harsh laugh: Jason. "No can do. It's not up to you to keep us alive. Yes, Tim shouldn't have been on that roof. He became Robin to help you, and because of that, so much […]has affected him, all of us. He made decisions in order to gain your approval, your love. But you don't get to dismiss all of that. You don't get to turn his memory into a child-leash for the rest of us. You've proven, so many times, that your "protection" is never guaranteed. And because of that, you have given all of us the tools we need to be able to fight on our own, to stand on our own, to live our own lives. We owe that much to you, and Tim knew it. And now, let's think about what Tim would want. He'd want the family to stick together, which, thanks to Alfred and Dick, it always does. He'd want all of us to remember his sacrifice, and to continue to fight for what he believed in. He wouldn't want us to be afraid. And he wouldn't want you to be guilty." Jason's hand was on my shoulder. "I told you not to go spouting that it was his decision, but Tim DID choose this life. He wanted out, but at the same time it meant something to him. All of these years, he fought because he believed in it. And whether this is how he should have died or not, Tim wouldn't want us sitting around and crying about it; he would want us to continue on with the lives we have chosen, and to be happy. If we don't, then his sacrifice means nothing…. So Bruce, suit up and go do something about it. Dick, Damian, go… hang out, or whatever the two of you do. I'm going to go crack a case and kill someone. It'll make me feel better."

With that, Jason turned away from me and started towards one of the cave openings, allowing his words to sink in. As he passed by Tim's case, he laid a hand on it, and allowed it to brush along the width of the case. A faint smile touched his lips as he walked passed, and then he was gone. Dick gazed after him, as he returned his hand to Damian's shoulder. Damian released a trademark "Tt" before moving for the stairs. Dick waited as Damian moved from earshot.

"He's right, you know…. Tim wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"I know."

"Tim changed him…. He changed me." Dick's voice was still shaky.

"He changed all of us, myself most of all." Dick's eyes were on me. "I didn't deserve him."

Now it was Dick's hand that rested on my shoulder. Too much hugging. "Maybe not Bruce. But Tim was a gift and whether you deserved it or not, it would be wrong to disrespect him by clinging to the negative. Honor his sacrifice and live on. You taught me that."

"I remember."

We'll get through this. We all will." A beat. "And… you haven't ruined us…. Any of us. Tim knew that better than anyone. You helped make us better. And… we love you too, dad."

I thought he would hug me again but he didn't. Dick didn't even make eye contact as he said the last sentence. He just squeezed my shoulder and then pulled away; moving towards the stairs and then launching himself up them, towards the mansion. Undoubtedly, he was going to find Damian. I waited at the bottom of the cave, processing what had just happened. Unbidden, my legs took me to the case containing Tim's suit, and I placed a hand on the glass, lost in thought. But Jason was right.

I suited up and leapt into the Batmobile in the span it takes most people to descend the cave stairs. To sit and wait was to allow the darkness a night of victory. And that was not what my son had died for. Tim would want me to continue the fight, and I would. Reeving the engine, a flurry of bats exploded into the cave. I could almost hear Tim's laugh, the first time he had experienced riding in the Batmobile beside me. And I allowed the memory to spur me into the night; my son's spirit by my side.