I walk through the door of my room. I throw down the duffel bag I've been carrying and flop onto my bed. My big bed, down comforters and fluffy pillows, is hard to leave. Since the villain band has threatened Dami and the others, I told Dad I would move back down here, at least for a little while. My youngest brother is less than thrilled about the idea, but he doesn't like me much anyway.

TD, as he's been going by lately, was 'so excited that he'd finally get someone to talk to,' as Bruce put it. My father has a tendency to make things less exciting than they are, so I didn't know what to expect. Until twenty minutes ago, when I pulled up on my motorbike and came inside. The house I spent nearly six years in is something I definetly missed during the months I spent as leader of the Titans.

I let Cy take charge. I knew he could handle it and besides, I wanted to go home for a while. Damian muttered something to me but I was nice to him. He needs someone to take care of him, as much as he refuses anyone trying. I did.

I unpack, the small amount of clothes I own are put in the closet, alongside my Nightwing uniform, which I'm terribly proud of. I can hear Stephanie in her room down the hall, singing along to some pop song as she cleans up. Bruce's room, on the right of mine, is silent, though I know he's in there. If I listen close enough, I can hear the rasp of his tired breath against the pillows on his bed. He feels bad for having this happen.

I have to tell him how glad I am to be home, I think as I tuck my bag into the top of my closet. I walk into the hall, hearing Dami argue with Alfred downstairs. The little boy thinks he's in charge, though I can't blame him. He grew up as basically prince of the whole fortress he lived in, so that sense of losing grip is on him. I've been there, so I don't understand why we can't get along better.

Before I can head down to them, though, a crime alert goes off. Ooh, that's new. I thought we relied on the light. Oh, wait, the new alert could be for the villain band.

I throw my uniform on and head to the laundry shoot. Hoping I still fit, I launch myself down the silver tube. I slide down to the laundry room and jump down the stairs, taking two at a time. I unlock the door and walk into the Batcave, walking down the line of displays. I gingerly touch the one with my costume on as I fasten my mask over my eyes. It reflects the one in the case exactly, and I trace the spiked edge of it before jumping down to the computer and clicking the threat.

Harley and Joker. I haven't seen either of them in a while, I think. Dami comes down the steps, muttering, "How are you so fast?"

"Try heading down the laundry shoot and coming down through that way." I tell him. When the others arrive, Bruce sends Damian and I down to take the husband-and-wife team out. I hop on my motorcycle, and Dami grips me from behind, twisting his head so his cheek is against my back. When we arrive at the warehouse they're raiding, I stop the motorcycle, turning it behind a crate.

"I've never fought these two," he mutters as we get off the bike and duck behind some of the wooden boxes. "So what should I do?"

"You should defienetly-oh, shoot." I wince as I see Joker coming out. He twirls a cane in his left hand, laughing, as he loads his car up. "Okay, see that cane? One time Batman and Jay were fighting him and he separated them. He beat Jason so bad with a crowbar he died. I get nervous even thinking about it."

"So stay together and get the cane. Got it," he says, looking over to me. I blink out the fear from my eyes and tell myself I'll be okay, then I nod to Damian. "Oh, and don't let Harley do any cartwheels. It'll break your bones if she hits you."

"Got it, Nightwing." He gives me a small smile, though if it's from adrenaline or sympathy I can't tell. Probably the first one.

"We almost lost." Damian mutters. He's lying facedown into a blue ice pack, and I'm lying back on the other couch with a similar pack on my forehead. "And it's my fault. Sorry, Damian. I just got nervous."

"I can't blame you. I've just never come that close to losing before." He looks up at me, then presses his face down again. The bruise on his cheekbone is one I could have prevented, the scar across the bridge of his nose something I could have kept from happening. He murmurs, "Besides, we won, they're in jail. Two less VB's we have to worry about."

VB's-villian band members. I look out through the front window, the thin curtains blocking most of it out. Bruce and Cass walk into the room, and she's saying to him, "I don't see why we can't take a vacation. We could take a week and go as the Wayne family, just go, none of the villains would even notice."

"I don't know, Cassandra. Hey, Grayson, Damian, what do you think?" I look up. "I haven't been on vacation in nearly three years. I vote yes."

"Do I have to socialize with anyone?" Narrowed eyes from Bruce make Damian nod. "Why not, then?"

As we talk about it, I notice Damian slipped away. I tell them I'm going to look for him and make my way down the hall to his room. Empty. Where else would he have gone? I don't see any reason for him to be-the cave!

I slide down the laundry shoot tunnel, seeing a small dent in the dirty clothes before I land. He definetly went this way. Landed clumsily, though.

I see him against the railing on the hall. The display cases are in front of him, he's staring at mine. "I've seen each of you fight."

For a minute, I think he didn't speak and I was hearing things. But he continues, and I listen from the doorway, clicking the door shut behind me. "You were all heroes, all had respect for everyone and everyone respected you. So why is it I don't?"

My breath catches in my throat. "How come it was so easy for you, and not for me? I'm not ready for this kind of responsibility, anyway. I'm eight years old."

I walk over to Dami, sitting next to him, quiet as a mouse. He looks depressed, and I would ask why if I hadn't heard him just now. He knows, but plays dumb, breathing a sigh. "I wasn't ready, either, Damian."

He doesn't look up, but his green gaze softens for a moment. It hardens as I keep talking. "At least you've got our brothers and Dad."

"Yeah. . ." he murmurs, so I know he heard me. He turns, tears sparkling at the edges of his eyes. I don't think Ra's let him cry, ever. "I have you, too."

I pull him close in an impulsive hug. A moment later, I realize he won't let me go, but it's okay. We're okay. He cries a little, and I hold on to him. "You're okay, Dami. Shh. . . ."