Rated T: Drug induced angst/violence and language.

Damian was in the same spot as before, his eyes were still wide in fear looking at the unconscious form of his brother, his mentor. Jason wondered what was going through the poor kid's head.

The Boy Wonder felt completely exposed in front of his family at the moment. Still seated on the medical table at the center lobby of the Batcave, he wore only the bottom half of his uniform and his entire torso was wrapped tightly, covered in stark white bandages, with bruising still peeking out from underneath. He sat only inches away from Grayson as Father continued to scold him for his carelessness.

Damian couldn't help but feel self conscious. He had received injuries before, but he was normally good at preventing them when fighting small name baddies. He had taken down supervillians three times his size and still received minimal injury, yet he was able to receive broken bones and heavy bruising from ordinary men. It was preposterous! Never had he felt more incompetent, so he couldn't help but wonder why Father had yet to direct his anger at him.

Damian did not believe Grayson fully deserved all of the fault of the failures of the mission. He sat silently beside his former mentor as the man received a scolding from his current one.

Yes, Grayson had made a bad call, but surely Father knew that it was made on reasonable grounds. True, Grayson did not think to run a thermal scan, but neither had Damian. After all, Grayson was not the only one on the mission, but he as well.

They both had jumped into action before fully analyzing their surroundings. They both had willingly separated and was unable to assist the other. They both were unable to adapt to their surroundings, and Crane had escaped as a combination of both of their failures.

To receive full blame was simply unjust, yet Damian allowed himself to remain silent. So badly had Damian wanted to jump in to tell Father that it was not Grayson's fault - that he was being too hard on him - but he couldn't find the words. Never had he seen Father so angry and so angry at Grayson.

He sat there silently because he did not know what else to do. Would it be wrong to interrupt Father, even though what he was saying is accurate? Is it wrong not to interrupt because the way he was speaking was wrongfully forceful? Should he stand up for his previous mentor; for his brother, even if Father was correct?

Damian settled for silence and focused his eyes everywhere but Father.

Sitting tensely and uncomfortably as if on display on the medical table, Damian turned his head to study his brother. Beside him, Bludhaven's hero was visibly tensed as if trying not to shake in his seat. His forehead and the exposed parts of his chest not covered in bandages glistened with sweat. His chest rose and fell quickly, but unsteadily, as if trying not to hyperventilate, his eyes wide staring at the floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Damian tensed even further at Father's words. Even without the cowl, Father was Batman at the present moment. He stood only two feet away but still managed to tower over Grayson, the anger almost palpable in the air.

While Grayson met Father's eyes with sadness, the Batman countered it with anger. Damian wanted to reach out and comfort his older brother. Did Father not see Grayson was on the verge of panic?

The two stared at each other for a moment. The other occupants of the cave stilled with baited breath as they awaited for the next person to speak. The only sounds were from Grayson's shallow breathing and the distant echoe of bats in the depths of the cave.

"I want a full report on my desk in the morning." The bystanders in the cave all released a simultaneous sigh of relief as Father broke the silence. "Damian. Go get changed."

As he began to attempt to dismount from the table, Father came beside he injured boy and assisted him. He wanted so badly to hide away. Great, he thought. Father must think of me to be so incompetent. Father continued to walk beside him, a hand lightly grasping his arm for support, as they headed to the changing rooms, which were down the hallway on the opposite side of the circular floor, behind Grayson.

Down the short hallway to the changing area, the room opened up to reveal a low ceiling, but widely spaced room. The space was divided into smaller sections consisting of various shelves, showers, and changing rooms. The flooring was smoothed out and glossed over version of the natural floor, and the walls kept accents from the dark rocks of the cave. All along the walls, hallowed parts were filled with dark wooden finished shelves that held the vigilantes uniforms and utilities, as well as spare civilian clothing. Todd had jokingly once stated that this area reminded him of a darker, Gothic version of a locker room of some ridiculous NBA team.

Father had released his hold on his arm and Damian began to walk toward the shelves that held his post-patrol clothing.

Damian felt a hand on his arm once again, and he turned towards the source. "I'll get it," Father said as he opened a compartment and pulled out a pair of black jogger sweat pants and a loose, gray hoodie.

Putting the items into his hands, Father directed him towards the door of a changing room. "I'll wait out here." Already, he turned away and walked towards another shelf.

Minding his injuries, Damian changed into the clothes given to him and in less than two minutes he exited the changing room. Outside seated on one of the cushioned benches in the center, Father, who was already out of his suit and dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, was hunched over in his seat waiting, a cup of water in the seat beside him.

Had Father waited for him so that he could receive his turn of a scolding? With a silent gulp, Damian stood up straighter and approached the bench.

Having heard him move, Father picked up the cup beside him and held it out to Damian. Taking the cup, the nervous boy sat down on his Father's left. Silently, the same man held out his hand revealing two small red pills.

Raising an eyebrow, Damian gave his Father a questioning look. "Pain killers. I figured you're not not very comfortable." The I know you're in pain was left unsaid.

"I am fine, Father," he responded as calmly as he could.

"I wasn't asking," Father coolly stated as he placed the pills in his smaller hands.

Not that Damian would admit, but the pain in his chest was excruciating, even though he tried his best to hide it. The tightly wrapped bandages helped alleviate the pain while simultaneously replacing it by adding immense pressure on his chest.

With a small thanks, Damian placed the pills in his mouth and downed the small cup of water.

"Are you angry with me, Father," Damian asked after a moment.

He turned to meet his Father's eyes expecting the anger he had seen only minutes before with Grayson, but instead his own eyes was met with a look of surprise.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

It was Damian's turn to be surprised. "I allowed myself to be captured, and Scarecrow escaped. The mission was a failure, Father."

The man beside him relaxed slightly. "It was," he stated plainly. "However, it was not your fault."

-tt- "Not my..." Damian shook his head angrily as he stood up, but still turned towards his Father. "It is just as much my fault as it is Grayson's."

Father sighed heavily, but remained calm in demeanor, his hands clasped in front of him as he rested his elbows on his knees. "There are many ways this night could have gone. We could spend hours talking about all of the possible 'what-if's, but it will not alter the past. I had given Nightwing an explicit order, and he being in command, chose to ignore it. Not only that, he chose to engage without fully assessing his surroundings." Father unclasped his hands and sat up straighter. "There were unforeseen circumstances, yes, but it could have been far worse."

With a heavy sigh, Father stood up and gently placed his hand on his shoulders and met Damian's eyes. "I am not blaming either of you for what happened tonight. Both of you could have done more, yes. But factors in which you could not have changed must also be taken into account: things that neither of you could have changed."

Father was not making any sense. "I don't...I don't understand." The man in front of him tilted his head slightly as if asking him to continue. "Why did you get so angry at Grayson?"

Releasing the grip on his shoulders, Father sighed and look away. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Because he should know better."

Damian furrowed his brows slightly as he felt himself fill with anger. "That does not justify why you were so angry," he exclaimed. As soon as the words left his mouth, he immediately regretted it; however, he did not apologize. Instead, he turned his head away and awaited for Father to scold him for raising his voice.

But Father did not yell at him. Instead, he guided him so they sat side by side on the bench once again. Father sighed another heavy sigh before continuing. "Dick...I've watched him grow up. I've raised him. He is my son, just as much as you are."

With time, the youngest Wayne came to truly understand that. Damian recalled a time where he resented when Father referred to the others as his "sons." Mother had raised him to believe that blood was the only thing that made that tie; however, after living with his family for as long as he has, he realized that was far from the truth. In his short time in Gotham, he has learned that blood does not make a family, but the relationships forged from caring for others more than himself. He truly...loved his new life in Gotham, and he loved his family. He would never admit it to them though. He had to keep some level of superiority - he was an al'Ghul after all, and he appreciated having this angle to tease his brothers with.

"Dick made mistakes tonight. You did as well." Damian turned looked down in shame as Father voiced aloud his own thoughts. "However," Father continued. "Dick's mistakes had a greater impact on the mission as a whole. He's the oldest, and I trusted him to make the right decisions. I took Dick in when he was eight, and Alfred and I have raised him since then. I've taught him everything I know, so when he doesn't think things through, as I have taught him - when he acts solely on impulse, not like a 'gut feeling,' and the consequences result in you getting hurt as you did, I get upset."

Father looked down sadly, "I admit, I was a bit hard on him, but when he continues to make the same mistakes, even at this age, I don't know how else to get through to him." He paused for a moment, as if reflecting on the event that occurred only minutes before. "I was hard on him," he admitted. "I allowed myself to get angry...I guess...I guess I was upset that you were hurt - that both of you were hurt." He looked him in the eyes and continued to speak with sincerity, "I care about him, I do. I care about all of you. You're my sons, but I cannot allow you all to continue to make the same mistakes. Especially in our field of work, when the consequences could mean life or death."

Damian felt himself relax, content with his Father's reasoning. They both looked away to ponder on each other's words. They fell into a comfortable silence for a minute before Damian spoke up. "Father," he said quietly. They met each others eyes once again. "I believe you should apologize to Grayson," he said firmly.

Surprisingly, Father allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "I figured you'd say that, son. I agree. We don't argue often. Not any -," before he was able to finish, Drake's voice filled the room, coming from down the corridor back into the lobby of the cave.

"Bruuuuuce," came the shaky voice that echoed through the room. "C-can you, um, come in here? Please. Now." What did the fool, Drake, want now? And when did he develop a stutter? Hmph, Drake was becoming more and more incompetent by the day.

After the two who occupied the changing area exchanged a puzzled look with each other, they both got up and walked towards his voice. As they approached the end of the long, brightly lit hallway, Drake could be seen standing by the archway that lead to the main room. Loud, panicked voices could be heard from the lobby, but the vastness of the cave caused them to sound muffled and Damian strained to hear what they were saying.

"...lying! I can see him," Grayson's voice echoed in the long hallway.

Immediately, the Dynamic Duo began to pick up the pace. Father entered the room first, with Damian closely behind. What they saw made them both stop in their tracks. Grayson, now standing had his back facing them, a gun clearly pointed at his temple! Damian felt his heart quicken in pace almost instantaneously. What in the hell! A look of confusion, and fear made its way onto his face as he attempted to assess the situation.

What is Grayson doing?!

In his perephrial vision, Damian saw Tim hastily make his way over towards the medical lab, but his focus remained on his brother.

It was Todd who was attempting to talk the panicked man down. Unlike Grayson, Todd's face was facing his. They made brief eye contact before Todd looked back at Grayson, his face calm as he spoke to him like a child. "Dick. You have to trust me. Put the gun down. We fought Scarecrow tonight. Do you remember that?" He continued, not bothering to allow an answer. "He gave you something. You're seeing things. We are all fine!"

Grayson was clearly in distress. His body shook as he took large, but quick breaths, a gun pressed to his temple in his right hand. His left remained on the table; however, it clearly was grasping something tightly.

"What if Tim dies because of me too," he asked in a small voice. "I...I can't let that happen, Jason. I can't."

The Boy Wonder's thoughts were going a mile per minute. Was...was this about earlier? The mission? The debrief afterwards? Was he angry? Where did Grayson even find a gun?! Why was he pointing it at himself?!

"What if Tim dies because of me too? I...I can't let that happen, Jason. I can't."

Damian was frozen in place. What does Grayson mean by that?

Damian allowed himself to see past his panic to think relatively clearly. What is happening?

Was Grayson going to...kill...

No. He wasn't.

He wouldn't.

Grayson could not -

He would not.

"And you're not gonna, Dick," Todd said desperately. "You're going to protect him, like you always do, but you have to be alive to do that. We need you alive, Dick."

He noticed Father begin to slowly approach the table. It was then Damian saw Todd minutely jut his head towards Grayson's hand that wasn't holding that dreadful weapon. The left hand that he saw grasping something only minutes before was now steadily dripping thick, crimson blood onto the floor. Grayson must have grabbed hold of the medical supplies still lying on the table. His older brother had multiple means to harm himself, and Damian found it hard to breathe.

Todd began to slowly inch towards the table towards Grayson, "Damian is alive. Tim is alive. I am alive, and we're going to stay that way for a long time."

"Stop!" Dick grasped the sides of his head causing the blood from his hand to drip down his face, the gun still in his hand, the other dropping the contents back onto the table. "Please, stop," he cried desperately. "Stop lying!"

Then, in a blur of motion, both Father and Todd ran towards Grayson. Before Damian could even process what was happening, Todd had tackled Grayson to the ground, over the table, and into Father's awaiting arms to catch his fall. The metal contents of the table fell to the ground in a crash.

Both Todd and Father held Grayson down as he continued to thrash desperately to escape their grasp. "Let me go," he pleaded desperately. The two Bats struggled to hold him down without furthering his injuries, as Drake ran quickly from the med bay with a sedative in hand.

Almost immediately, Grayson's struggle came to a stop, and Todd released his hold. Father continued to hold the unconscious vigilante in his arms, all of them breathing heavily as the excitement of the situation died down.

The young boy's eyes were wide as he continued to stare at the scene before him, still not having moved from his previous spot. Before he could even process what was happening, it was over.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that; frozen stiff, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. He didn't even see Alfred come in, or hear his two older brothers attempt to get his attention.

A light tingling sensation enveloped his entire body. He felt almost numb.

Did Grayson really just...?

Did he almost really...?

The image of Grayson holding a gun to his head was burned into his mind. He tried to blink it away, to tell himself it wasn't real - that it didn't happen, but it was no use. It did happen. Grayson almost... died. Right before his eyes, and Damian did not try and stop him.

"Come on, buddy. Say something," came a muffled voice. Why did it sound so far away?

Tim continued to wave his hand in front of Damian's face, attempting to get his attention. He was bent slightly at the knees, trying to be at eye level with his younger brother.

"Damian. Snap out of it, kiddo, it's over, he's OK," Tim tried to say, but Damian continued to stare wide-eyed where Dick was only a few minutes before. Bruce and Jason had gently carried him into the medical bay, where Alfred met them to reassess Dick's injuries. Alfred would have to re-wrap his ribs, and all the movement from before had reopened his gunshot wound, staining the stark white bandages almost instantly, not to mention the stitches he would now need on the incision in his palm from the medical supplies. Large droplets of blood could be found around the area.

After the new leader of the Titans helped Bruce and Jason secure Dick, he noticed Damian had yet to move from his spot at the entrance of the changing rooms. He had exchanged a look with Bruce that said, make sure he's alright, before the two took the unconscious vigilante to the med-bay .

Tim approached him slowly, and spent the last few minutes trying to get the stunned hero to say something, but to no avail. Damian's eyes were wide in fear, and he was shaking slightly. His breath was at a faster pace than normal.

He sighed heavily, and placed both hands on either of the kid's small shoulders and shook gently, "Damian. He's fine. It was the fear toxin. His blood tested high levels of the stuff. Come on," he stated gently.

Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching from behind him coming from the direction of the med-bay. He knew immediately who they belonged to. "Don't you dare fucking slap him too, Jase," he said as he turned his head sharply to meet the older Bat's eyes.

Jason lifted his hands in a placating gesture, and rolled his eyes annoyed. "Are you fucking serious," he began incredulously. "The kid's, what, almost twelve, shitwad. You really think I'd slap him out of this?"

The teen vigilante furrowed his brows skeptically, and turned back towards the youngest, hands still on his shoulders and repeated the same lines before to get him to snap out of it. In his peripheral, he saw Jason enter the changing rooms and exit less than a minute later, a blanket in hand.

The Red Hood still had not changed from his uniform, as he was planning on leaving after the debrief. Still dressed clad in his patrolling gear, sans the red helmet, the anti-hero removed his heavy leather coat and threw onto the nearest empty counter lining the walls.

"Move," Jason commanded gently. Tim stepped away and allowed Jason to take his place.

Jason silently wrapped the blanket around the boy's shoulders. Then bending down until he was at eye level, he took both hands and cupped either side of the younger's face and examined him closely. He tilted the head in his hands slightly left and right, "Talk to me, kid. What are you thinking," he asked quietly.

Ever since Bruce had come back, Tim saw a dramatic change in his older brother. Yeah, sure, the Red Hood was still pretty brutal most of the time, but he stopped aiming to kill. In fact, he hasn't killed anyone in a while, and Tim was proud of the progress he's made. He's also been assisting with patrols and cases, and because of this they've grown closer as the adopted siblings they are. It doesn't mean they don't fight, occasionally, (occasionally, as in: all the time,) but Jason has always been able to completely switch in character and act as the older brother he just naturally is.

Damian continued to stare blankly at nothing. With a heavy sigh, Jason released Damian's face and stood up.

Gently, Jason picked up Damian as if he weighed nothing and began to walk slowly away.

"Where are you taking him," Tim asked following closely behind the two.

"Medbay. Kid's in shock," he said looking in the direction he was walking.

Tim rolled his eyes and picked up the pace to walk beside them. "I knew that," he said mostly to himself.

Jason felt his lip quirk up slightly into a smirk, as he mentally praised himself for managing to annoy Tim. It left his face almost immediately as he looked to examine the small boy in his arms. His head rested perfectly between his head and shoulder, and his arms were huddled into himself. Damian's eyes that were previously wide open were now clenched tightly shut. He could feel the kid's body shake with silent sobs as he walked towards the room he and Bruce had previously placed Dick in.

The med-bay was brightly lit, but had dark walls, much like the changing rooms. It was equipped with a few small rooms, with amenities much like a hospital, and much of the same tech the League was equipped with. The three Bats approached the room where the new occupant resided in. As they approached the destination, Jason saw that the bed was angled into a sitting position, the occupant of the bed still unconscious, and Bruce had a hand placed firmly on either side of Dicks's chest to hold him upright as Alfred finished wrapping his chest.

The two looked up at the two new arrivals, a look of sympathy crossed their face as they saw the small boy in his arms.

"He's fine," Jason said as he approached a cushioned leather couch in the corner of the fairly room. "Just a little shaken up, is all." Wordlessly, Tim jogged ahead of him and grabbed a few black cased pillows from a cabinet on the far side of the room and placed it in the couch before Jason gently placed Damian in it. After he appeared to be settled, Jason re-positioned the blanket around him, and took a knee beside the couch.

He titled his head to the side and examined Damian's face, for what seemed to be the tenth time that night. The newest Robin's brows were furrowed and his eyes were clenched shut, but he appeared to be sleeping.

He reached out and gently ran his fingers through the kid's short, spiked hair. "Yeah," Jason began quietly. "I think he's out."

He remained like that for a few seconds, examining the pained expression on his brother's face. Jason didn't think Damian entirely understood what was going on at the time. The kid had just walked into the situation, where it looked like Dick was going to...fucking shoot himself. Never had he been so glad he followed Bruce's rules about not having his guns on the property. Did Damian even know the guns weren't loaded? Did Damian even know that the fear toxin they thought didn't work was the cause for this little shit show? Shit, what the fuck was going through this kid's head right now?!

Jason understood Damian. The kid was raised under the League of Shadows, just as Jason was for a short time when he came back. He understood that the Grandson of the Demon was raised under just shitty circumstances, just dying for approval from someone, from anyone. He didn't have people who truly cared about him like he does now. Now that he has it, he's afraid to lose it. All of them are the same in that sense. This is their normal. Their family truly cares for each other, and to lose any of them is unimaginable.

"It's better that he stays that way until we can figure out what happened," Bruce's deep voice filled the room.

"Jason, Tim. I need to speak with the both of you," Bruce stated gently as he approached the door.

Tim was already following him, while Jason paused to look at the unconscious occupants of the room. With a sigh, Jason stood up and approached the door beside Tim, who turned the dial on the panel beside the door and dimmed the lights of the room to a comfortable level.

"Alfred," Bruce began again before leaving, with the two close behind. "Do you mind staying with them?"

"Of course, Master Bruce. I shall alert you if either one awakens," Alfie stated as he gently inserted a saline drip into the crook of Dick's left arm.

With a nod from Bruce, the two Red's exited the room behind him.

"Back to the drawing board," Bruce said not turning around, and together they walked back to the Bat-computer to continue their mission: Find Crane.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, folks. I started writing this chapter, then lost the charger to my laptop for a while and I was too lazy to buy a new one. Next chapter, the Batfam discuss a game plan! And no, we have not seen the last of the toxin.