Chapter 4

The blood red sun devoured everything.

Violet. Her beautiful violet eyes. Her eyes and his freckles. Both of them were covered in red. The red of the sun.

Kory was dead and Roy was gone-the sun devoured them both.

He had no one left. He'd been abandoned.

Abandoned and forgotten.

Alone.

No.

Not Alone.

A plea, muddled as if underwater and far away. A shot from a gun, his gun. A refusal that rang louder than any gunfire. A dark form pushing and pulling, clawing against him, begging him with inhuman sounds. He outran their grasp just as the sun devoured them too.

Alone again.

Then the sun erupted and became the moon.

Cold, dark. Like an endless pool filled with ice. Spikes of cold dark blue. Eyes that watched and sneered. A face he wanted to forget, but couldn't. A name that burned his lips.

Nightwing was there, but he was-he wasn't right. Too big, too broad, too not Dick.

Not Dick-

Damian.

Christ, it was-he needed to-

Wake up, dammit.

His eyes shot open and Jason gasped for breath.

"Jesus," A voice hissed in surprise.

Jason turned. A young man sat beside the bed, hair buzzed so close to the scalp it was barely visible. His wide blue eyes stared at Jason in bewilderment.

Dick? Jason almost said the name-but realized that wasn't right. This face was too thin, too thin and pointy. Not quite pretty enough. Close maybe, but not quite.

Not Dick-Tim, Tim Drake. The replacement. Older and bigger, but still not quite Dick. Just like Jason-never quite Dick.

Jason groaned, voice hoarse and too dry, "Christ. Please let this be a nightmare." He sat up and felt his muscles protest as he did.

Tim's frown was Jason's first answer. The furrow of his brow as he just looked at Jason, "I'm not exactly leaping for joy either."

The response was full of acid, which startled Jason a bit. He half expected he was still dreaming, but Tim's annoyance sounded very real, "Damn, you're real right? Like really here? I'm not see things, am I?"

"Trust me, I can honestly say I've never been less happy to see you, but yes Jason," Tim sighed, "I'm real."

Jason still didn't believe it, "You're alive?" He tested cautiously, almost tempted to touch the younger man just to make sure.

Tim sighed again, this time with a weak smile he didn't feel, "Yes Jason I'm-" he stumbled over the word, "-alive."

"Al, he's-"

"Alive too."

The thought of the old butler, still kicking after all this time, made Jason both worried and happy. Worried that Damian might being doing something cruel to the family butler, but happy he was still around. Apparently the old man was indestructible, just as Jason had always imagined.

Tim put his worries to rest, "He's fine Jason. We're both fine."

Which was obviously a lie. Nothing about any of this looked or felt anywhere near fine in Jason's book.

"Bruce-is he?"

Tim's face tightened with a stiff head shake. "I don't know."

Jason sighed, that seemed to be the consensus anymore. Dick-or rather Damian nor Tim, no one knew the whereabouts of Batman or Bruce Wayne. "How long was I out?"

Tim paused, "About a day."

Jason blinked. That couldn't be right. "A day?"

"I think Damian may have given you a sedative," Tim shrugged. Dark circles were under his eyes and he looked exhausted.

"Have you been sitting here the whole time?"

Tim shook his head, "Not all of it. Alfred and I took turns."

Jason looked around, ignoring the slight throb still present at the back of his skull. He looked at the bed, the room, the place in general and came away with the answer of his location quite quickly. A place he'd tried to put out of his head for years. Wayne Manor. Seemed Damian was nothing if not sentimental.

A sentimental nut job.

The thought brought a wave of anger, "Where is he? Where is that son on a bitch?"

A flash of something-fear maybe- flared in Tim's eyes. He waved his hands as if to quiet him. "Stop it," He fisted his hands to his mouth as if stifling saying something, "God please, don't do this Jason." It sounded like a plea, small and sad.

"Don't do what?"

Tim's blue eyes reverted to him, shining with sadness and pain, "Don't-be you. Don't fight with him. Please don't make this harder on yourself. On us. This is a battle you won't win. Not here."

Jason glared at him, "That freak is running around pretending to be Dick," he shot back, "He's got a damn costume and a stand up routine and everything."

Tim's mouth tightened, "I know."

"And you're okay with that?" Jason was a bit surprised by Tim's acceptance of such a thing. "You don't think that's the least bit odd? Or you know, bat shitting insane?"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Tim mumbled, "Just leave it alone."

"Leave it alone?" Jason frowned, "That doesn't sound like the Tim Drake I know."

Tim laughed, bitter and tight, "I suppose it doesn't. Then again, I guess the world ending as we know it can change a person," He shrugged as if it didn't matter.

"What the hell happened here?" Were Damian, Tim and Alfred really all that was left of the bats? "What happened to everyone else?"

Tim swallowed, "They fought and," His voice was small, "they failed. We all did."

Seemed failing was a pretty regular thing anymore. "I thought you were dead for sure," Jason said, "all of you."

"I figured the same for you," Tim sounded tired, "Or I hoped you'd have the sense enough to stay away and I'd never have to see you here. That at least one of us would escape this," He motioned around them, "him," He hissed the word, "Somehow."

After a moment of contemplation, pondering why there was such sorrow behind all Tim's words, Jason admitted, "He tricked me. I thought he was Dick and trust me if you didn't know any better, you'd have thought so to. Like I said, he's insane."

Tim's mouth thinned, "Trust me Jason, I know what he is and I do know better about Dick." He stiffened. Saying Dick's name seemed to pain him.

"Is Dick-"

"Please don't ask me that Jason. Please," Tim looked away, his blue eyes were filled with agony. Jason's heart pulled a bit. Seemed no one had been saved from the pain of loss. He'd lost his team and so had Tim. Everyone had lost someone.

"Shit." Dick was dead and Damian had taken Jason's guilt and used it against him. Jason had played right into the bastard's hands. Played him for the damn fool. "What does Damian want? He went to a pretty great length to play dress up and screw with my head, so what's his end game? Why bring me here?"

"I-he doesn't really tell me-" Tim stops, "I'm not exactly his confidant, Jason."

"What are you then? He must keep you around for a reason."

Tim's eyes widened and Jason swallowed on impulse.

God. No.

Tim rolled his shoulder nervously and Jason's suspicions rose. He fought back a wave or nausea as his mind went to a place Jason couldn't, didn't want to fathom. A place not even someone as psychotic as Damian would ever go. Or at least Jason hoped not. "Shit, I didn't mean-"

"No. It's not-" Tim didn't meet his gaze, "It's okay." Something remained unsaid, but Jason didn't press him.

"I'll kill him."

"No Jason, you can't." Tim rushed.

"Yes I can." It was obvious Damian had done something to Tim. The pale young man looked on the verge of collapse. Tim and Alfred, they were supposed to be Damian's allies, weren't they? Unless Damian really had flipped sides after killing Dick Grayson, which was looking more and more to be the case, "I'm gonna kill him. And we're going to get out of here. You, me and Alfred."

Tim barked out a laugh so ugly it hurt, "Don't you see?" Tim's eyes were weary and worn and a little pitying as he asked with exasperation, "Don't you get it?"

"I've seen the world out there, Tim," Jason shot back, annoyed at the condescension, "Believe me I fucking get it."

"No-" Tim choked the word, "No Jason, you don't. You don't get it at all."

Jason took his first good look at the young man.

Tim looked thin. Not deadly thin to the point of emaciation, just weak and brittle, like a man who hadn't seen life or sun (or the blood colored imposter posing as the sun these days) in quite awhile. He looked like a prisoner, which Jason assumed he very much was. A prisoner who looked like he was surviving, but just.

"When was the last time you went outside, Tim? You may think this is bad." Jason stomped off the bed, ignoring the slight bout of dizziness moving so fast gave him, "But it's not exactly paradise out there-" Jason pulled the curtains back on the window and took a step back at what he saw, "What the hell?"

A giant slab of metal was sealed over the window. It was solid and didn't look like it couldn't easily be moved, if it could be moved at all. It may have been a defensive thing, Bruce was always a bit paranoid, but it felt more menacing than that. The first word that popped into Jason's mind was trapped.

"Are they all like this?"

Suddenly the walls felt a bit closer together.

"I honestly don't know."

Jason turned to Tim, "You've never seen this before?" But Tim didn't look surprised enough for that.

Tim shook his head, "No, I meant-The last time I went outside," His words were just above a whisper, "I honestly don't know, Jason."

It was an answer to so many questions, questions Jason hadn't even thought of yet. Tim looked caged, like a broken animal who had no hope of ever leaving it's prison.

"You can't leave, can you?"

Tim's eyes were blank, a small eerie smile on his face, "No Jason, I can't." It almost sounded like sarcasm, which seemed severely out of place.

"You will," Jason assured him, boldly if not a bit blindly, with a bit too much certainty, "We both-all will." Jason certainly wasn't staying here, that was for sure.

Tim's mouth ticked in a mockery of a smile, "See, you still don't get it Jason. You really don't get it."

Jason rounded on him, "Stop saying that!"

"We can't leave Jason. Me and Alfred we're here to stay," Tim gave no further explanation, if there was one, which undoubtedly there was, he was clearly hiding it.

Jason crossed his arms, "And what about me?"

Tim looked at Jason as if he were seeing through him, watching the door behind him and then glancing to the barred window in contempt, "If you can find a way out," he shrugged mildly, "be my guest."

It sounded like years of bitter defeat talking. But Jason wasn't giving up that easy. He wanted answers. Now. "Where is that suit stealing bastard anyway? Or is he too afraid to come and face me?" Jason would just love to mark up that handsome face some more. Maybe bust out a tooth or two.

Tim moved his hands up and down as if to silence him, "Jason, he can hear you-"

Jason knew that. He waved Tim away. His voice got louder as he searched for the hidden camera, no doubt somewhere in the room. He held his arms out as he proclaimed, "Well come on then. You're obviously watching, baby bat so come down from your mighty throne and talk to me already. Unless you really are scared, too afraid to finish what you've started. Come on Nightwing," he oozes the name with sarcasm, "Show me your balls have actually dropped. Be a fucking man."

Tim's eyes were huge and disbelieving, "What are you doing?" He hissed.

"If you think I'm gonna wait around for that arrogant prick to-"

He was cut off by a very polite, yet pointed cough. Jason's eyes flew to the door and in turn the frail looking man dressed in a butler's suit. Jason didn't, couldn't possibly put the name he associated with the once proud Wayne family butler to the thin, old man standing there. In a suit that now looked too big on him Alfred Pennyworth's skin was cracked and pulled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jason's anger boiled, he was going to take whatever pain these two had suffered out of Damian's hide himself. Messing with Tim was one thing, messing with Al that was-

"The master will see you both in the dining room." Alfred's voice was clipped, but there was a hidden relief in the old man's eyes when he looked at Jason.

Jason steeled himself. Soon, this would be over and Alfred would never have to take another order from Damian Wayne ever again. Jason would make sure of that. "Well we wouldn't want to keep the master waiting, now would we?" He twisted his head back on a bewildered looking Tim, "Let's go Timmy."

A laugh escaped that may have been forced as Jason used Dick's, or more recently Damian's, favorite word, "Looks like it's time for a little family reunion."

Damian toyed with the stem of his wine glass.

Trust Jason Todd to make a spectacle of himself. The man wanted to talk. Fine. Damian would talk.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the task ahead, dealing with Todd wasn't something he relished the idea of, but it was a bit hard to focus on anything with Dick constantly shifting next to him.

His hair, Dick wouldn't stop messing with his damn hair. Whether it was a sign of anxiousness or because it kept constantly falling in the older man's face, his fidgeting was irritating Damian to no end. The midnight colored tresses were getting a bit longer than Damian liked and he'd have Pennyworth take care of that later, but right now-

Damian crossed his arms, brow raised, "Why do you insist on wearing your hair so long?" He didn't understand Dick Grayson's fashion choices at all. Everything about the man was all wrong. Not at all the warrior his father was, Dick Grayson was light and colorful and acted like a damn clown. He was a buffoon and Damian didn't understand his appeal in the slightest, "Isn't that impractical?"

A grin, filled with pearly whites and a laugh, as if Damian had somehow made a joke, "Are you kidding? Trust me when I say nothing gets you noticed faster than good hair," Dick swept his hair back as if to prove his point. At twelve, Damian didn't get it and he doubted he ever would. He thought longer hair made Grayson look weak and a bit like a woman.

Dick continued to grin, "You want practical talk to Bruce. You want style, I'm your man."

Damian took Dick's hand, stilling the movements and grounding himself back with the other man's warmth. Now wasn't the time for such memories. "Nervous?" He asked, not unkindly.

Dick looked a bit sheepish as he admitted, with a small shrug, "Kind of."

"Trust me, you have absolutely nothing to be worried about."

Dick nodded and bit his lip, but he looked unconvinced. "It's just," He hesitated and Damian could feel the tension of Dick wanting to pull away his hand away so he rubbed his thumb against Dick's knuckles until the other man relaxed somewhat. "What if they don't remember me?"

The question was a bit of a surprise, but Damian kept an even expression despite his slight shock. "Alfred remembered you," he pointed out.

"But Tim. What if-?" Dick sounded forlorn as he looked at the table with troubled eyes, "-what if he doesn't?" His voice fell somewhat, "It's been so long, what if he's forgotten me?"

Pushing past the irony of Dick worrying about anyone forgetting him instead of the other way around, Damian couldn't help a frown. How long had it been since Dick had last seen Tim or Alfred? Surely not that long. Perhaps Dick was losing his sense of time along with everything else? That certainly made the most amount of sense.

"I know for a fact that no one here will ever forget you, Dick Grayson," Damian gave his hand a small squeeze, "Especially me."

The return smile was small, but sincere. Still, it felt like Dick was only half there, as if part of him were somewhere else. Dick's lips kept pursing and his eyes refused to remain focused on any one thing. He was still-distracted.

The new ticks were even worse than the hair pulling.

Damian's free hand moved to rest against Dick's cheek, trying to center the other man's eyes on him. Only him. Finding that blue gaze, he murmured, as reassuringly as he could. "It's okay."

Slipping his thumb to catch the fullness of Dick's lower lip, Damian felt the first stirring of something real at the touch.

Dick's breath quickened, but he didn't jerk away. Their eyes remained focused and Dick's gaze was fully on him. It was beautiful, Dick was-

Dick Grayson was a fool. An absolute fool who made brash statements and played by the notion of act first, think later. Loyal to a fault and utterly aggravating to everything Damian Wayne stood for. Too flashy, too loud, too ready to throw himself at the first sense of danger without a second thought. Too thick to be worthy of the title mentor, much less be someone he would ever willingly follow.

Dick was-

Dick Grayson was the first person to ever truly comfort him. The first time Damian thought he'd lost Bruce-before his father had written him off and essentially disowned him-Dick had been there for him. Even when he'd pushed the older man away, calling him names and ridiculing his choices after Grayson took up his father's mantle. Through it all, Dick refused to give into Damian's admittedly childish tantrums. Bruce had come back and Damian realized in switching one Batman for another, he'd never quite gotten over losing Dick as a partner. Through no sense of any kind of logic, it became the substitute Damian longed for, not the original.

Dick was-

had become-

Damian hadn't realized it at first. It wasn't until it was too late. Til Damian watched Dick crumble and fall, til he saw all that crimson soaking the floor, filling the cracks beneath his feet. Til Damian slipped in it in his haste to help. Til the stream, small at first quickly become a river of red. Dick's blood, never ending and flowing so freely. Damian waded in it, trying everything he could. Everything, but it wasn't enough-

"Damian?"

Damian wasn't sure which had been worse. Watching the life leave Dick's eyes or watching it return. He tried not to think of either. Tried to keep himself in the present not the past. He couldn't change what happened. But he could change the here, the now.

Because Damian would never forget Dick Grayson.

"Damian, Please. You're-"

The pressure of his grip as his hand had moved from Dick's mouth to the lowest point of the man's neck was tight. Damian wasn't sure when or how his hand had fallen, but Dick squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke in what was more a gasp. Pain Damian realized. Dick's eyes read of pain. Too stunned at first to realize it was him causing the pain in Dick's voice and eyes, Damian finally released his hand.

Dick looked dazed and forlorn and completely out of sorts. Damian felt the same, even if he didn't show it. Damian withdrew his hand and his gaze, he studied the table suddenly feeling a bit sick and it was Dick's hesitant touch to his arm that sent the wine glass crashing across the room.

Damian withheld a curse. He'd wanted to destroy something and it may as well have been Bruce's best crystal. Damian wanted to watch it crack into a hundred shiny shards. Wanted the accursed thing to break and shatter against the wall. Wanted something to break that was in his control to break. The responsibility, the burden keeping them, keeping Gotham safe, it was his and he took it willingly, but he needed to alleviate his frustrations. Somehow.

It wasn't enough. The destroying of one simple wine glass was hardly enough.

Damian wanted, needed more. His left hand quivered and balled into a fist. The first thing he caught, before he could upended the table or do anything worse to damage the room was Dick. Dick's mouth, plush and agape. Dick. The perfect outlet for his anger to turn to something else. The world seemed to spin with the ferocity of their meeting and Damian's hands snaked the front of Dick's shirt, not to trap-never trap, but to steady the smaller man against him.

It might have been that he knew, that Damian could somehow sense the door opening before it did. Or maybe it was simply a twist of fate and it just happened to be at that moment Jason Todd was meant to make his entrance.

"If this is why you brought me here, you should know-I'm not exactly into three ways, Damian."

Loud and obnoxious, hearing the voice curled Damian's lip as he pulled away.

"If you and your little boy toy are done perhaps-"

Getting to watch the look of dawning, the realization that hit Jason's face as he paled to an almost ghost like state was more than worth the interruption. Truthfully, Damian couldn't have planned it any better. Todd was getting the picture first hand and sometimes, more often than not in Damian's opinion, it truly was easier to show than tell.

Todd, was eloquent-as always.

"What the fuck?"

If he were to compile a list of things Jason never wanted to see, watching Damian Wayne swap spit with anyone would definitely be near if not at the very top.

The way Damian touched and held the other man, whose back was to Jason, was way too possessive to be considered romantic. The scene rubbed Jason the wrong way. He placed the blame mostly on his mind's eye and seeing a tween aged Damian and the word sex together, which sent shivers up Jason's spine. Watching Damian devour another man like it meant his next breath of survival was more than a bit unnerving.

"If this is why you brought me here, you should know-I'm not exactly into three ways, Damian."

That got Damian's attention. Two blue eyes bore knives at him, deadly sharp and not at all humored.

Not that Jason was trying for a laugh.

"If you and your little boy toy are done perhaps-"

He stopped. The shaggy dark head turned and who looked at who first was an argument Jason could save in his head for later. Not that it mattered. Because, Jason was pretty sure he was looking at what was supposed to be a dead man.

"What the fuck?"