A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed or are following this story! It's your kind words that keep me going. Hope you enjoy this next installment!

Disclaimer: Nope, I still do not own. Darn it.

Finding Damian

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Determining Damian's location wasn't much of a hassle. Hacking the sealed files regarding Zatanna's one year mission and finding the only orphanage in the vicinity of that area was a piece of proverbial cake. Now. Getting to that location undetected was going to be the real challenge.

Having learned from the best, Dick knew how to cover his trail efficiently. But when you learned from the best, it was exceedingly harder to fool them.

Luckily, Batman and the League were busy on a mission of their own, meaning Bruce would be too distracted to notice his absence if he justified it well enough. So, he developed a covert espionage mission that Nightwing would be working solo, and nobody would be none-the-wiser. With a promise from Tim that Robin would look after Bludhaven while he was gone, Nightwing left the Team in the capable joint custody of Conner and M'gann.

His next obstacle was transportation. Moreover, he didn't want to use any mode of transportation that might be traceable (Hey, when your mentor was the big, bad Bat, you tended to be adopt a healthy sense of paranoia). Once again, however, Dick's lucky stars seemed to be shining. There just so happened to be a friendly face in Boston, Massachusetts, which wasn't too long of a ride by bike. Despite the distance he had to drive, Dick smiled genuinely as he arrived at his destination. Besides Wayne Manor and Happy Harbor, it was the only place that truly felt like home.

The bright colors of the big top and the scent of sawdust reminded him that spirit of Haly's Circus was still alive and well.

"Long time no see, Mr. Haly," Dick said cheerfully, sneaking up behind the ringmaster, who startled at the sound of his voice.

"Dick!" Haly exclaimed jovially. The old man rushed over to envelope his surrogate grandson in a hug, a hug Dick heartily returned.

Mr. Haly ended the embrace with a broad grin. "Or should I say, 'Dan Danger?'" he quipped.

The last Flying Grayson laughed. "Nope, no undercover work today."

"On a vacation?"

"Something like that," Dick mumbled.

"What brings you here, then, son? I have a feeling this isn't just a social visit," Haly guessed.

Dick sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, busted. "I hear you're headed to France for your next performance."

"Yes, sir, that's the plan," Haly confirmed.

"Mind if I hitch a ride across the Atlantic?"

Jack Haly smirked thinly at the former circus star.

"I think that can be arranged."

It was going to be a long trip, and with the anxiety already clawing up his throat like an anaconda snake, Dick decided to open up about his sudden fatherhood dilemma to the man who had been like a grandfather to him during his childhood. Although they didn't see each other frequently anymore, Haly was still family, and Dick trusted him to give good advice.

"So, I got this girl pregnant when I was fifteen and I never knew and she died in an accident a few months ago. Now I'm going find my long-lost son, but I'm still not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do from there," he blurted out in one, long breath. By the end of his rant, he was practically winded. "Nothing about this is aster."

To his credit, Jack Haly took digested all this information in stride. "What does Mr. Wayne think about all this?"

"I can't tell Bruce!" Dick protested, as if it was the most absurd suggestion he'd ever heard. In a more subdued voice, he added, "Not yet..."

Mr. Haly raised a scruffy eyebrow.

Sighing, Dick tried to explain. "He... Bruce has always taken great care of me. But I'm an adult now; I have to start taking care of myself. If I go running to him about this, I know he'll be disappointed. And he'll think I was irresponsible."

"Well, Dickie, you did get a girl pregnant. That does make you irresponsible." Mr. Haly grinned. "But fifteen-year-olds are supposed to act that way."

"Not me," muttered Dick, and it was true, no matter how anyone might argue. Boy Wonders weren't supposed to be careless; that's what got friends killed and made mentors disappointed. And having Bruce be disappointed in him was one of the absolute worst feelings in the world.

Second to only, perhaps, discovering a son you never knew about.

Dick sighed again. "What do I do, Mr. Haly? Knowing he exists, I can't just leave him in the care of strangers... Unless, what if he's better off that way? What if I wouldn't be a good father?"

"Richard John Grayson," Haly began sternly. "Don't start having doubts about yourself. You know, your father was spouting the same sort of nonsense right before you were born. Must be genetic."

"My dad?" asked Dick in disbelief.

"Yep. Thought he'd be a fool of parent. The idiot was practically scared to death days before Mary was set to give birth." Mr. Haly rolled his eyes. "And you know what happened?"

Dick shook his head.

Haly's exasperated expression melted into one of fondness. "He took one look at you and fell in love."

Which made sense, sentimentally and biologically. Parents were programmed to love and protect their children from birth. But Damian wouldn't be a newborn baby. At this point, he was probably a toddler. Would it be the same? It certainly had not been so simple when Bruce first took him in when Dick was eight. Unsure of his his capabilities as a father, Bruce had kept his distance, reluctant to let anybody in. As a child, Dick had never understood why the mysterious Mr. Wayne had trouble accepting his abrupt appearance in the billionaire's life. Now, in the reversed role, he was starting to get it.

Seeing the turmoil on his face, Haly added in his last two cents, "Dickie, all parents are scared at first. I say, meet your boy before you make your decision. That's the best advice I can offer."

"Okay," Dick agreed half-heartedly. Haly placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, a great parent is somebody who will love their kid unconditionally will sacrifice anything to do what's best for him or her. Which is exactly what I know you'll do."

More than anything said thus far, that statement gave Dick the spark of confidence he'd been hoping for.

"Indulge me, though," Haly said seriously. "If you don't want to ask Wayne for help, how do you expect to support this kid if you plan on keeping him?"

Shrugging, Dick replied, "I guess I'll have to look for work."

"Aren't you taking college courses?"

Among other things.

"A few, when I can spare the time. I'll have to rearrange my schedule somehow. I just... I want to prove that I can take care of Damian myself before I tell Bruce and my friends. Then maybe they'll see that I'm perfectly able to handle it without help."

"Can't do everything on your own, kiddo," Haly said sagely. Then, after a bit of inner debate, he handed Dick an envelope. "Here."

Dick blinked owlishly at the parcel and swiftly tore it open. Shockingly, it was the information to a bank account in his name.

"It's account your parents," Haly elaborated. "Nobody knows about it except me, because they made me the trustee. That way if anything ever happened to them, no matter where you ended up, you would have some money to fall back on. Your aunt and uncle had one for your cousin, too, but after the accident, your uncle made it so the bank then transferred that amount directly into your account. It's profited rather nice over the years."

"Mr. Haly, I..." Dick was at an utter loss.

"Take it, Dick. Your family would want you and your little one looked after." The ringmaster winked meaningfully at him. "Just promise to bring the kid here for a visit before you leave, alright?"

Throat too tight for all the words he wished to say, Dick simply smiled, hoping that the gesture conveyed everything that went unsaid. "Deal."

The files Dick had hacked regarding Zatanna's mission placed Damian's probable location near a small village in southern France. It was secluded enough that there wasn't an airport even remotely nearby, so he was forced to travel by train.

I guess she wanted him to be safe, Dick mused as he exited the station. Out of sight, out of mind.

In a way, he understood. How many people would deliberately torture themselves by being constantly reminded of the child they gave up? In another way, a resentful part of him found that fitting.

A kind, elderly inn-keeper who only spoke French (which thankfully, Dick was partially fluent in) told him that there was a temple on the outskirts of the village that used to take in homeless children and give them sanctuary. They still did, she said, but lately only in special cases. Intrigued, Dick tried to decode what she meant by that, yet the old crone merely shrugged and said he best be on his way.

Taking that as a hint that she knew nothing else, Dick paid her for trouble and trekked onward. After about fifteen minutes of walking, he arrived at a small area of meadow, on the edge of which lay a grassy hill. Sitting at the very top of this hill was the temple.

Making sure nobody was within sight, Dick slipped into a thick line of trees and unzipped his duffel bag, which unbeknownst to any ordinary passerby, contained his Nightwing costume inside. He'd had a lot of time to think this through on the train, and decided that if Zatanna had given birth to the boy as an undercover heroine, they might be expecting a superhero father.

Besides, it was much more dangerous for Dick Grayson to have a son with Zatanna than it was for her former colleague, Nightwing. Using his civilian identity would raise too many questions and could cause people to draw very dangerous conclusions. No, it was safer this way.

Inhaling deeply, Nightwing approached the temple entrance and gently knocked on the door. He waited a fair five minutes before receiving a response.

"Bonjour?" The large door opened to reveal a middle-aged monk, who was obviously unprepared for a superhero to be wrapping at his door; otherwise, he would not have jumped so high at the sight of a vigilante standing there.

"Relax," Nightwing placated in French, realizing what a start he'd given the poor man. Hearing his voice, the monk calmed somewhat, and after surveying his strange appearance, an unexpected comprehension dawned on the monk.

"Nightwing, is it?" he asked in English, through his thick native accent.

Surprised, Nightwing's eyebrows drew towards his hairline. "Have we met?"

"No, no," the monk shook his head. "Roughly three years ago, though, Ms. Zatarra did mention you during her stay."

"Zatanna?" Nightwing muttered, the gears in his head cranking against one another. "Then you must know why I'm..."

The monk merely nodded, not needing him to finish. "Come in," he offered.

Nightwing nodded gratefully.

"You must be tried from your long journey," the monk spoke idly, as he led the young vigilante down a long corridor. "Can I get you any water, food, or other refreshments?"

"Thank you, but no," Nightwing declined. "I'd just like to see my...son."

Hearing the term leave his tongue was almost as surreal as saying it aloud. But he might as well get acquainted with using it now, because after this, there would be no turning back.

"As you wish," the monk replied. Another man, younger but clothed in an identical set of robes, approached Nightwing's guide and whispered something confidential in his ear. The first monk answered, "Yes, that will do. Summon Father Jaque to the young master's chambers. Tell him about our guest's arrival."

The young monk bowed, and then hurried off to obey his superior's order.

Observing how much room this temple truly had to offer, Nightwing began to wonder why there weren't any other orphans taking refuge here, or at least more monks wandering the halls. "Don't you take care of any other children?" he inquired innocently.

"Not at the moment, no," the monk said airily. "Which allows us to focus our full attention on the young master. He is exceedingly bright, and continues to show such promising potential."

As he stopped to open a particular door, a dagger came flying out in their direction, embedding itself in the wall behind them. Merely missing the pair of them by a narrow inch or so.

"I can see that," Nightwing choked, somewhat startled.

The monk chuckled, albiet sheepishly. "He's very advanced for his age."

Advanced in what? The art of assassination? mused Nightwing. Inside, his inner instincts were ringing with suspicion, but the importance of this moment carried too much precedence over his baser bat instincts.

"Master Damian?" the monk beckoned. "You have a visitor."

Nightwing peered into the room, searching for its single occupant. The room was barely furnished, and the light that filled it was provided by a dozen gleaming candlesticks. Half-obscured by shadows, the hero spotted a small figure with dark hair standing with his back to them, causing the bottom of his stomach to drop out from underneath him.

Just as he was wondering if it was too late to turn back, the child turned around and Nightwing was met with a pair of impossibly blue eyes.

Eyes that he saw every time he looked into a mirror—eyes that had once belonged to his mother. Now they also belonged to his son.

"He took one look at you..." Mr. Haly's earlier words regarding his dilemma faded in, the truth of them finally understood. And in that terrible moment of conflicting emotions, Dick knew with absolute certainty what course of action he was going to take. Seeing his own child here, alone, how could he ever think to leave his boy behind?

Suddenly, Dick's internal doubts and insecurities didn't matter anymore. His decision was clear. Damian would be coming home with him.